The Elder Scrolls: Nillo's Legend
by dossfenrir
Summary: 4E 298: 97 years after the battle of tongues, 96 years after the fall of Harkon, the legends of the Dovakiin linger since his disappearance, his legend vague even after only less than a century, and his actions and choices not truly known. This is the story of Nillo, a young man who, inadvertently, played the role of champion the fate of Tamriel. (warning: Violence and Language)
1. Prologue 1: The Foreboding of Sun's Dusk

He could feel it...the icy claws of his nightmare gripping his heart. It was nothing he had seen before, but something he knew all too well: the dreadful darkness...the lonely darkness...it was as if it were drowning him in Vaermina's own icy black tears. However, it was not his mistress of nightly terrors who called to him, for there was something far more ominous within the abyss of fear. He knew this familiar sensation all too well, and knew it meant only one thing: his master, the holder of all damning wisdom, was about to speak!

"His time is near, a most tainted twist of fate is about to befall him. You must seek him out, for he is the key...OUR key..."

His whispers were akin to having his very psyche violently assaulted by the talons of both a hagraven and a Hunger. To say it was painful would be both an understatement and a misinterpretation. Agony of the greatest and most unimaginable kind was the closest that he could describe it to be as he woke. As his vision cleared from a mix of shock and drowsiness, his senses came back to him and as to what his surroundings are: the smell of charred oak as the ashes of the decrepit hearth simmered, the cold caress of the Nordic winds as they descended down the cliffs of the Dragontail Mountains in the distance, and the sound of creaking wood coming from the roof of the abandoned shack he lay in.

It had not been his first choice as a campsite, but he had no other choice given the cold icy rain the day before. He had been traveling nonstop for 2 1/2 days now, which would not have been an issue otherwise had he not had to deal with a group of Nord-hating Thalmor sympathizers. He had managed to end their pathetic lapdog-like existences with mild ease, but their magicks had proven draining on himself. They weren't by any means the first of their kind he had slain, but he had done well to stay out of the ever growing conflict that was the Imperial-Nordic Border Stand Off up until that point. After their skirmish, finding this decaying cabin was on par with finding a thousand gold septims. It was no better than sleeping inside a rotting tree, but he wasn't one to complain. After all, it was exactly what he needed.

Sitting up in his cot, he looked out the window sill, and gazed at the distant mountains. He had previously held the instructions to travel this close to the Skyrim border, given to him by his dark master. What he didn't hold until just now, however, was why he was sent all this way north from Haven in Valenwood. It had baffled him...until his lord mentioned him. He did not know who this man was, but he understood how to find him. Unfortunately, it meant somehow crossing over the border in secret and finding his way to the fated one's village within 20 days. He knew what was to come, and he knew that he had to reach Rorikstead before the 21st of Sun's Dusk at any and all costs...

The sun was close to starting its descent into the horizon, and the chilled wind of Sun's Dusk blew as the young boy watched from underneath hill top tree. He was covered in dirt from tending to the chickens and goats his mother owned, and sore beyond belief after playing with the other children of his village. Well, playing isn't quite correct for they had actually roughed him up yet again. The boys of his village did not like him, and they made it clear.

First, there was his name: Nillo. It was an old Nordic name that few even used, as it was last worn brazenly by the aptly named Nillo the King Butcher. This wasn't something that the children actually understood, but was sadly something that an elderly traveler had pointed out and openly scorned poor Nillo with. To make matters worse, Nillo was also smaller and frailer than the other boys. These combined made him an easy target to them and made him a social pariah with most of the children in Rorikstead.

Still despite all of their ill-treatment, Nillo could always find solace in sitting under this tree atop this hill, and watch out over the rolling tundra planes of Skyrim. It was always beautiful, rain or snow, and it always made him feel happy and at peace when his mother joined him whenever she wasn't busy tending to their small farm or helping with the weekly feasts at the inn. Even now when she wasn't there with him, he felt content as he laid back, closed his eyes, and drifted off slowly…

Peace…you feel it now…but it shall never last, my chosen pawn…  
Those words echoed in his head for mere seconds as soon as he fell into his sleep, but even as he bolted awake immediately after he found the sky was almost completely dark. Despite the cold, his skin was awash with sweat, his heart giving an aching pulse every other second that echoed even in his ears, and his breath was short. Never before had the young boy felt such terror and fear in any of his eight winters of life, and never before had he felt such dread as he knew something wasn't quite right…

"Nillo! Where are you?!" echoed the worried call of Alva, his mother, as it snapped him out of his trance. He realized with disbelief that it must have been past dinner time and even bed time by now, even when he felt that he had fallen asleep only a moment past. What disturbed him far more, however, was the realization that he couldn't even remember what he dreamt nor what had scared him so badly. All he knew…was that it had been beyond his or any other's comprehension…  
He got to his feet even as he shook and ran as fast as he could to his mother's side, the young boy doubling over with deep panting. He had already been short of breath from his nightmare, but now he was absolutely breathless as he looked up at his mother through the strands of his shoulder-length hair.

"I-I'm so sorry, momma! I didn't mean to be late!" his voice trembled as he spoke, causing Alva to take notice.

"Nillo, where have you been? What happened? You look as if you had seen a dragon…" her voice trailed off as a fear began to grow inside of her, not wishing for the village to have another attack from the fearsome spawn of Akatosh after nearly twenty years of peace from the fiendish creatures. To her relief, he shook his head and continued.

"N-no…I was taking a nap up under the tree, and…I-I had a nightmare…*his eyes became downcast as he began to feel the terror again, its grasp overwhelming him. To his relief, it was quickly chased away by the warm embrace of his mother as she rested his head upon her bosom and gave him a warm smile. He returned the affection as he hugged back, feeling all of his worries disappear and all of his fears fade away into the night as she spoke with a gentle care.

"Do not worry, for I will protect you from those night terrors and their kin. Now, you should hurry on inside, my little one. I made rabbit stew for dinner, and it will get cold if you do not hurry" his eyes lit up instantly at her words, his stomach growling loudly at the thought of his favorite dish having been made. Without even a thought he scurried into their small farm house with glee heavy in his heart and his terror discarded from his memory. This sight delighted Alva to no end, and it always had when he was but a babe and even now still.

As they sat at the small table in front of the fireplace of their home, the room aglow with the fire's warm light and filled with the sounds of its crackling sparks, Alva spoke of the same ancient Nordic stories that had been told for ages past by their forefathers. As old as these stories were, Nillo neither noticed nor took any offense to any of them. All that mattered was being able to hear them, as he had grown up listening to his mother quote them in her special way. She told him again of Ragnar the Red and his foolish pride, of Olaf One-Eye, and even of the legendary Dovakiin of the 4th Ear; but by far his favorite was always the one that concerned him the most, the one of his father.

"He was a kind and gentle man, my little one" she spoke with great fondness, just as she always did for him.

"How did you meet him, momma?" Alva giggled softly at her child's excited interest.

"Well, I was in Whiterun when we met. I was a member of the proud Greymane Clan that resides there, and he was a travelling noble…or so he claimed. He also proclaimed how 'beautiful' I was 'with hair like silken gold and eyes as blue and clear as diamonds'" she once again smirked as she saw Nillo's knowing look of skepticism "and I was not one bit convinced. After all, how was I to know whether he was being serious or that he was rather just yet another suitor sent by a friend of my father? I was, after all, being constantly assaulted with weak proclamations of affection and flattery by lesser men who wanted only my hand and title for their pride. Again and again, I ignored his flattery and praise, wishing neither to hear it nor be given them byu him or any other man I had no prior knowing's of. One day, he decided to try something different. He came to me and instead of flattery; he decided to make a wager. I was...admittedly brazen when it came to games of chance, and somehow he had figured this out. He wagered that if he could prove himself a better man than the others as well as prove that his love for me was genuine, that I had to marry him".

Nillo let out a giggle "but he proved himself, didn't he momma?" Alva smiled warmly and continued her story.

"Yes he did, and in quite an amazing way! Under the fullness of both moons, he guided me to the base of the Gildergreen tree at the center of the town, and…" she could only smile as watched her son's eyes widen in anticipation to hear of what had happened. "…he gave me an amulet of Mara, a symbol of marriage and eternal love, as both a sign that he truly loved me and that he truly wanted for me to be his eternally! Marriage to us Nords is never taken lightly, especially when it involves an amulet of Mara, and I knew then and there that he meant it because I knew he was not foolish enough to lie about such a divinely symbol". She smiled with such happiness and closed her eyes as she remembered the warmth of that moment, how the tenderness of his voice had caressed her ears as he spoke with gentle yet poetic words to her that night. Nillo couldn't help but smile as he saw the warmth of his mother's expression, touched by how happy his father had made her.

Yet, as with most stories of this kind, he knew what came next and it only melted away the happiness he felt. "but…he isn't here…he has never been here with us…" he could only watch despairingly as his mother came down from her happy memory, and sigh in a suddle sadness.

"He was with us until your second moon. You see, Nillo, your father had to leave us here. My father had never agreed with our union and even payed men to hunt down your father and kill him. What's more, your father had his own family to deal with. He had to keep us safe…no matter the cost…and so he left us in order to lead the bad men away" she could only force a smile at this point as Nillo felt his temper begin to grow.

"…but he never came to see us…he never even bothered to write. I don't even know him…" his eyes drifted away to the fire as loneliness set into his heart. He felt like his father never cared, that he only married his mother for personal gain just like all the bad noblemen in the stories.

"no…but he did have his reasons" Alva wrapped her arms around her son  
as she spoke with in a tender whisper. "He knew that if my father had hired the kind of men who would kill for gold, that they would not hesitate to use us as leverage. They would most likely hurt us or even worse in order to gain what they wanted…and he could not risk that, especially for your sake. I always told him how you had his eyes and how they glowed just as his did, stubborn as an ox yet gentle like the first breeze of an early spring" she smiled down into Nillo's eyes, and watched as he smiled back even just slightly, his faith in his father reaffirmed. "now, off to bed my little one. We must get up early and tend to the harvest before the winter can reap it instead" and with that she gave a tender kiss upon his forehead and watched as he trotted off to his small bed before putting out the fire and settling into her own with a whisper into the night "may you find happiness where ever you are, my beloved…". With that, they both drifted off into their peaceful sleep. If only…they had more…

_My fated one awaits, my disciple, but his time draws short…soon the tainted mongrel will reap…soon he shall feast…soon…soon…it will be too late…_


	2. Prologue 2: Innocense Destroyed by Flame

_Darkness falls...darkness falls...with ashes and cinder..._

_Death sings as agonizing flames dance about...gone are our hopes and our lives..._

_He must not fall...he must not fall..._

_Our cries echo...and will echo..._

These words burned in his mind...a vision? Yes, that was all he could think it to be, but what it meant was something far direr. He was running out of time. He had just barely made it through the border and now was struggling to find his way down the mountains and to the plains. It annoyed and even irritated him to no end at how both Nords and Imperials were seemingly doing what all they could to keep anyone from so much as breathing in those mountains: everyone was a suspect of either treason or fighting behind enemy lines unless the proper documentation or insignia was given. What had been worse were the Dominion spies that lurked seemingly behind every gust of snow or pillar of ice. They did not care for which side you belonged to, so long as you were not of altmer descent you were but hostility to them and another target for death.

Either way, none of it mattered for every confrontation he encountered would only end the same way: red snow beneath a broken body, sometimes beaten and sometimes torn apart. The only solace he took in those incidents would be the knowledge that who or whatever found them would be terror stricken, unable to know of whom or what could perform such vicious brutality to a sentient being. Such shock and horror from his "work" eased his stress and anger; always had and always will, or so he kept telling himself.

None of it mattered in the grand scheme, as his mind kept drifting back to the task at hand. The final hour drew nearer and nearer, he knew this. It only made him more frustrated at the idiocies of mortals, no matter their ideals. He knew that "the fated" was running out of time, he knew that if he did not hurry his master would lose his pawn on the chess board, and he knew that "the tainted" drew nearer. With every passing minute...it seemed that the chances for success were slipping away further and further...  
All that mattered...was reaching Rorikstead within the next 19 hours...or else all would be lost...

Nillo was not happy; he knew it and he didn't even try to deny it. The day had started decently enough, what with his mother preparing sweet treats and roast mammoth snout for the village's harvest feast. Despite how small the village was, and how little they had to spare for the feast, it looked as if the night would be quite merry and in high spirits. Nillo had even helped by running about the village, delivering goods and herbs and drink to aid in the preparations, and even had his best friend Markayus lend a hand. Markayus was a redguard boy just one winter older than Nillo, and had always watched his back in the thick of things. He had been raised along with him by Markayus's father, Grendal, a mercenary-turned-guardsman of the village who had always reminded Nillo of a big grizzly bear.  
The day had gone on just fine but as the sun stood at the first hour of the afternoon, Nillo and Markayus ran into unpleasant company. Gordon, a rather large boy a few winters older than Nillo, sneered at them with great spite as he strutted over.

"Hey, it's the runt and the coal man! Are you out to pick flowers for your mama again?" his voice was gruff and harsh just as a troll's, to which of course there was little difference between the two in Nillo's mind. Nillo felt his ears and cheeks burning with hatred for the bully, and quickly retorted without so much as looking.

"Oh how lovely, the troll in BOY'S clothing is going to make fun of us again" Nillo mocked with a sly monotone smirk. It had its effect as the other kids immediately took notice and began to laugh, not being brave enough themselves to challenge the proud Nordic adolescent. Gordon, however, wasn't so pleased. He growled at Nillo, unintentionally making the kids laugh more before he began to fire his usual insults at the smaller boy.

"At least I am BIG ENOUGH to wrestle a troll! I could tear its damned head off and eat its brains! But you? Oh no, you are just the scrawny bastard of a city whore!" and with this, Nillo froze in his tracks. He had always been good at controlling his anger, but when someone insulted his mother he always gave into rage. Just as he was about to charge at the boy-behemoth, Markayus stopped him with a grab of Nillo's arm, and whispered lowly.

"Don't do it, Nillo. He's too strong and he knows it. He just wants a reason to beat your head in..." Nillo held his breath for a few seconds, and finally sighed and turned from the larger boy as he and his friend began to walk away.

"What? You scared, King Butcher?! You a little MILK DRINKER?!" Nillo just rolled his eyes and kept walking, knowing that Gordon was only making a fool of himself before the adults and kids...and then, he said the one thing that Nillo could never withstand hearing.

"You running away to your milk drinker papa? Oh wait, that's right! He ran away when you were a runty babe! I bet he didn't want a MILK DRINKER for a BASTARD!" Nillo turned around immediately towards the boy who had tormented him for so long and charged right at him screaming in anger. Insulting his mother was one thing, but to insult the man who had given him life and his very name was another, and he would not tolerate it. He could not tolerate such insults anymore, and he would not tolerate them from the fat boy who tormented him so.

Gordon sneered as he saw Nillo's reaction, amused by gaining what he wanted. What he didn't want, however, was the fact that Nillo, in his fit of rage, was charging at him with unseen acceleration that no one knew he could produce. Gordon swung down to hit the small boy, but Nillo knew this all too well from their last few hundred fights, and side-stepped slightly just enough to dodge and bash his head right into Gordon's groin. The kids watched in a mix of shock and awe as the oldest and toughest one amongst them was brought to his very knees by the smallest and weakest amongst them. Gordon could only cough and hack, wheeze and whimper as he clutched his crippled testicles. He was in disbelief at what just happened; he had always challenged Nillo, knowing he was too weak to defeat him, and now he was on his knees like a wretched mongrel.

Nillo was shaking, not with pride but outrage and anger. He felt his face flush with hot blood, every pulse like the molten metals of a forge as his body stood tensed like tempered steel. He watched as Gordon began to shake and look up at him, showing that he was regaining his motor skills, but Nillo wasn't going to have any more of it. He balled his hand into a fist and punched Gordon in the throat. He balled his toes and kicked him in the ribs. He balled his other fist, and slammed it right into the boy's fat nose, sending him to the ground on his back. Nillo quickly climbed on top of him, using his knees to pin Gordon's arms as he began to slam his fist into the boy's head again and again and again. He didn't stop. He dared not stop. He had had enough of the ill treatment and the scorn. He knew he had to end it all here, whether it is by putting the meat head beneath him in his place...or with the boy's own blood...

The kids cried out for the adults, now fearful for Gordon's wellbeing as Nillo assaulted him with unrelenting rage. Markayus had run off as soon as Nillo had charged at Gordon, fearing for his friend's wellbeing, but whom he had returned with was all that was needed to snap Nillo out of his berserk rage. He could hear a familiar cry behind him...but it seemed unnoticeable and far away. It called out his name repetitively, but to no avail. Suddenly, he felt something grab his shoulder and a hard slap cross his face as he came back down to Nirn.

"Nillo! What in Shorr's name are you doing?!" it was his own mother, her face full of shock and fear, her eyes pink with tears. It took him roughly a minute to fully comprehend the gravity of what he had done: his fist was bloody, a mix of his own as well as a now unconscious Gordon, the kids and the adults were all staring at him in a mix of fear and disgust, and Gordon...Gordon just laid there. His nose was obviously broken...his face covered in blood and bruises, 3 teeth were missing, and his eyes were black. Nillo took notice of the pain in his left hand; a burning soreness, a stinging imbalance in his joint, and a stiff involuntary twitch in his ring finger. He began to shake, a growing sickness in the pit of his stomach already placing him further on edge. Alva helped him to his feet, but he didn't just stand there. He ran, as fast as he could, as hard as he could.

Nillo didn't care where he was going; all he cared about was getting away from everyone. Surely if they didn't hate him before, they absolutely despised him now. What's more, he couldn't face his mother.  
No, not after she had seen him like that, not after she had seen him become a monster. A monster...that was what he was...a butcher that was what he is. Finally, as the sun was now close to its final hours, he stopped. He was out of breath, too weak to keep running. He didn't even know where he was; only that he must have been miles away from home and that must be for the best. As he looked around, he realized that his village was still visible even if just barely.

He slumped over before falling hard on his rear, and burying his face in his hands and sobbing. He had never once dared to cry in front of others, for they would only mock him, and he never cried in front of his mother because it only made her cry, but this was different. He had beaten Gordon, another child, into a bloody pulp. He had brought shame upon his mother and himself, and he knew what the price was for assaulting a neighbor: exile. He hugged his knees and quickly began to wonder what he would do, where he would go, how he would get there. As smart as he was, none of his ideas made much realistic sense, nor did they hold any grain of realistic possibility. Hell, he had just as much chance of reaching Whiterun and being adopted by his grandfather's family as he did riding a dragon to the top of the throat of the world and joining the Grey Beards...although the latter did seem pretty nice given his circumstance.

His train of thought was quickly shattered, however, when a deep howl echoed from a nearby rock. Nillo became deadly still. His heart pounding hard but slowly and his eyes slowly turning to see the source of the noise. To his horror, he found a pack of two wolves standing around the rock and a third, most likely the alpha, standing atop it. They snarled as they stared him down, and he saw their thin frames. The recent summer had been unnaturally frigid, and the usual game was few in number. He had heard stories of his village's hunters often finding the remains of unlucky travelers and even fellow hunters, and now the very monsters that had killed them were starring him down. They did not seem too disinterested in his scrawny physique, rather they seemed desperate enough to try and kill a giant just to survive.

Nillo waited as they did for a minute, watching them as they watched him, waiting for them to take the first action as they in turn waited on him. He didn't even wait a minute longer, or more so truly didn't dare to. Without a second thought, Nillo used his feet to kick him off and dash away in a mad sprint. The wolves didn't hesitate as they took off after him, but thankfully he had had a head start. Ironically, years of running from Gradon and his friends had made Nillo into a fast runner. His skinny frame made him light enough to be quite dexterous and spry, but he knew it would not matter if he did not find shelter, help, or even a weapon quickly. No, it wouldn't matter at all once they caught him, and he dared not die yet, not now.

Sadly, he did not see a stray rotted tree root in front of him, and could not avoid it. Lodging his foot underneath it, he fell hard onto his face with a pained yelp. He struggled to get to his feet, seeing his pursuer's mere yards away, but he could not. His ankle was hurt from the root, and he could barely stand, let alone run. He shook as he felt his heart sink, his pulse growing faint as the realization of doom overcame him. Tears filled his eyes as he pleaded with the divines to have mercy, to save him, to not let him see his mother one last time...

As the wolves closed in on him ever so slowly, their fangs bared and their foul mangy stench heavy in the air, a deep fierce growl echoed from behind Nillo. As he looked over his shoulder, he saw a tall bear of a man, his old Nordic styled iron helmet hiding the upper half of his head and his shallow beard drenched in sweat. His fangs were bared to the wolves, a returning gesture towards their own. His armor was of what Nillo assumed to be ebony make, but it was different. It was as if it were purposely made with some plating but mostly chainmail. He drew two long swords, both also of what Nillo assumed to be ebony make, but they seemed to glow faintly with the aura of magicka. As the man spoke, his voice seemed to boom like distant thunder; deep and unremorseful.

"Three curs who wish to die. Such a shame, your fathers would not be proud of you dying from Grief and Sorrow" he seemed to move swiftly, though Nillo noted his taking of giant strides, and the wolves responded. They charged at the man, seeking a meal, but they would not have it today. The alpha barked and snarled as the other two charged him and leapt up to bite into his chest and throat, but he was faster. With seemingly blinding speed, he drew his swords in an intersecting and arching swath as the blades not only sliced right through the starved beasts, but also ignited their carcasses with flames as they may contact.

Nillo sat there, stunned by what he had just witnessed as he continued to watch the man stare down the alpha. He could feel the tension between them as the air seemed thick with it. The alpha snarled and growled at the killer of his kin, but it seemed that it wise enough to tell a lost cause when it saw it as it turned away and ran off across the fields. Nillo finally sighed with relief, his head dizzy from the excitement and adrenaline rush that was no leaving him, but this was short lived as the man turned to him. Nillo felt himself being glared down at by this massive Nord, and he felt his heart sink. He was of muscular build; his tanned flesh covered in scars as a spiraling draconic tattoo wrapped it's away around both biceps. He looked down at Nillo, and spoke in a deep, calm, monotone voice that seemed to be on edge.

"Are you hurt, boy?" his question took Nillo by surprise as he expected the man to either attack him next or not even care in general.

"N...no sir..." Nillo retorted with a low voice. The man grunted as he put away his blades, obviously noting at how unsettling he was to the young boy.

"Very well, but you should now that traveling out here by yourself without weapons, armor, or even magicka is a damned fool's gambit. Had you not been lucky enough to have had me nearby, you would be nothing more than another torn corpse for the crows" his voice was cold and disdainful, and yet ancient as if he spoke in a slight dialect that Nillo doubted any modern Nord would speak in.

"I-I'm sorry sir...thank you for saving me..." Nillo casted his gaze downward, feeling nothing but stupidity for himself at what he had down. The man was right, and he was lucky this time.

"Now, go home. Go back to your family, and stay there away from these harsh wildernesses" he began to turn and walk away as Nillo called back to him.

"Wait! Which way is Rorikstead? I was lost and I didn't know which the right way was!" Nillo watched in silence as the man didn't so much as look at him, but at the very least had stopped in his tracks before pointing east towards a familiar large hill.

"Just past that hill with the tree. It's rather hard to miss, boy" he shook his head as he walked on; as if he were in search of someone he knew but had lost sight of. Nillo quickly shook his head and took off, limping slightly with a wince as he still had a sprained ankle from his chase moments before.

As Nillo stood on the hill top, he saw his village still n preparation for the harvest festival. No one seemed to have stopped except for earlier when he had had his fit, and everything seemed about ready as they began to head into the inn for the feast. Nillo looked down with a bit of relief, but instead of going to where everyone else was he instead walked towards his own house, and slipped inside. To his shock, he found his mother waiting for him, and her face was dark.

"Momma...I..." Nillo chocked on his words as he tried to say he sorry, that he didn't mean to do what he had, that he was most regretful for shaming her, but she spoke before he could.

"Gordon's father spoke to me after you ran off. He is not happy with his son being attacked by you, nor is he pleased that you fled after doing so" her voice was calm, but it soft in a disapproving and almost sad tone. "You kept beating him as if you meant to kill him. You damn near did just that, Nillo" her eyes began to fill with tears as Nillo shook, his eyes at his feet, "why? Why would you do this? You know better than to get into fights, and you know better than to let his insults burden you!"

"He insulted papa! He called him a milk drinker, mama! He kept calling me a-" he shook as he tried to finish, but his mother interrupted him before he could continue.

"That doesn't make it right! You hurt him very badly! We had to ask a visiting mage to help heal him!" Nillo's eyes filled with tears as he glared at her.

"I had to protect our family's honor! He wouldn't stop insulting me, and he even insulted you!"

"And that makes it okay?! Nillo, I don't care for what I am called by a child unless it is you! His words mean nothing to me, and they shouldn't mean anything to you either! He is a bully, and a fool and you are not! you know better and you are expected to act with more maturity than someone like that!" she quickly realized the irony of her statement as she also realized that Nillo was now visibly shaking as he climbed down the ladder to the basement, running to the makeshift spare bed as he laid down on it. His mother followed suit, and came down to the basement as she sat beside him on the cot.

"Nillo, I-"

"Leave me alone!" he screamed at her, not wanting to hear anymore of her words as he wished that she would just go away. She sighed softly as she sat there with him in silence, her hand slowly and tenderly rubbing his back as she waited a few minutes before speaking.  
"Very well...but please at least come visit the inn for the feast, my little one? It won't be the same without you being there with us" She smiled softly yet sadly as she waited, but Nillo wouldn't turn to her. He was to upset and angry, and she knew he needed to calm down first before he joined them. giving him one last kiss on the head, she got up and made her back to the kitchen of their house and then made her way out the door as Nillo once again felt himself drift off into sleep...

_He is near..._

_His taint has found you..._

_Run...my pawn...run..._

_Run...RUN..._

Nillo sat up shaking, his heart pounding as he felt himself in a cold sweat. The nightmares had found him again, but this time he knew something was wrong. The night wasn't still, there was screaming and shouting outside. At first he had assumed it was the festival, but then he felt a massive boom from a nearby house and smelled fire, smoke, and something foul like a burning rat...only he was losing any belief that it was a rat that was burning...

He quickly got to his feet and climbed the ladder to the upstairs before running to the door and opening it to a fresh new hell. Rorikstead, Hid beloved village and home, was in flames. He saw people running about, trying desperately to flee and to retrieve their goods, loved ones, and livestock. One man even tried to grab as many bottles of ale as he could, but he was quickly hit by a ball of flames as he disintegrated into a charred corpse before Nillo's horrified eyes, causing him to double over and empty his stomach contents at his feet. HE couldn't believe this was happening. Was it due to a dragon? Had they returned? No, it couldn't be for there were no roars or shouts.

"Nillo!" a familiar cry echoed through the fire and flames as he felt an arm wrap around him and pull him back into the house. It was his own mother, her hair a mess as it was splayed across her face. Her eyes were full of tears and were pink from crying. Nillo could tell that even in spite of what he had seen with the man, she had most likely seen worse.

"Mama! What's going on?! What is attacking us?!" he shook as he began to panic, about ready to brake from the terror he felt.

"We were at the feast when the attack began. It was from a strange and monstrous man!" Nillo's eyes widened as he immediately thought about the man who had saved him. Was it him, even after he had been kind enough to spare him such a horrific death?

"He arrived immediately after we started the feast, and he shouted at us all to come out of the inn. We didn't realize what was going on and thought he was just another bandit, so Grendal went to settle the matter. But...but as soon as he open the door, he-" she began to shake and tried to hold back sobs at the memory of their dear friend "oh Grendal...why?"

Nillo fell silent, his eyes wide in disbelief. Grendal was the greatest fighter he had ever known, and to be done away with was unthinkable to the young boy. Then, a much grimmer thought occurred to him as he cried out "what about Markayus?! Is he okay?! Did he get away?!"

His mother looked down as her voice broke "he...he wouldn't move when everyone fled the inn...he stayed with his father's body...I do not know whether he is alright, or..." she began to break down again as she held her face in her palms, but Nillo's words were what shook her out of it.

"Mama, we need to go! We can't wait here for the attacker, we must flee while we can!" but she wouldn't move, she refused to. Her resolve had already begun to shatter, and now she was purely devestated as the grief of seeing so many friends die before her very eyes had finally caught up with her. It was only the booming, almost gleefully sadistic voice of the attacker that snapped her out of it.

"Come on out, fated one! No one can keep you from me!" his voice was like that of a mad and rabid sabre cat, but he already made it clear that he was far more dangerous. "Come out now, or do you wish to watch your dear beloved home burn to the ground?!" his laugh echoed clearly through the smoke filled air, a mix of sadist glee and blood lusting frenzy.

Alva quickly grabbed Nillo and carried him to the cellar door before carefully tossing him down into it. It was a rough landing that hurt, but she was desperate to hide him as he heard something bang against the door of their house. Alva must have realized just how close he was to their home when he hadn't.

"Mama!"

"Nillo stay quiet! you mustn't make a sound, no matter what!" her eyes were tearing up again as she forced a smile "please just stay calm and stay there for me, my little one..." and with that she closed the cellar door, locked it, and covered it with a crate just mere seconds before the door was torn down. Nillo shook tearfully, full of fear and dread as he listened as best he could to what was going on while he searched for a loose floor board. Quickly finding it, he peaked through the crack to see his mother standing boldly before the attacker, but his appearance was just as frightening as his voice.  
Save for his head, he was covered in sharp armor that not only looked evil and wicked, but also seemed to emanate an aura of foul and maleficent energies. his flesh, or at least what little Nillo could see, was a deep bloody red except for ebony back markings that seemed to represent something that Nillo could not decipher with his limited knowledge. It traced from an odd black sun symbol on his forehead down to his eyes which they formed bold rings around, and then intersected with the corners of his mouth and seemed to turn his own lips black. His eyes were monstrous, having pitched black sclera, molten orange irises, and reptilian-like pupils. His smile and voice were the fiercest things of all, as he spoke with the charms of a twisted argonian straight from the bowels of oblivion, and yet the elegance of a master bard.

"I know he is here, my dear gildergreen flower. So tell me, where have you hidden him? Because if you do not tell me..." he pulled out a long blade that seemed to be made of the same material as his armor, and just as wicked "I won't hesitate to carve the answer out of you!" Nillo's eyes widen as he wanted to scream and distract the man from hurting his mother, but she spoke calmly and defiantly before he could.  
"Can you not tell? He isn't hidden. He is safe and where he needs to be..." Nillo moved so that he could see his mother, and immediately took notice of where exactly her hand was rested upon. he became filled with confusion as he watched her rub her own belly softly, as if she were expectant with another child even though his father hadn't visited in years, and then it dawned on him: she was bluffing, knowing that no one would dare harm an unborn child, let alone the mother who carries it. He felt relief sweep over him with a mix of hope, and he knew all would be well.

How wrong he was...

"Not even born I see...oh well!" the man smirked as he immediately ran his blade through her stomach and out her back, laughing in sheer glee as Alva's eyes went wide with shock and he left her unable to even choke out a scream. Nillo's eyes went wide as all the world seemed to slow down around him. He felt his own tears roll down his cheeks as he could not scream either, but merely eke out a small squeak.

"No..."

The man laughed as blood seeped from Alva's mouth and pooled around her feet from her wound, her eyes fading but still glaring at the man with the single question: why?

"oh my dear gildergreen bloom, how I wish I could have rolled with you first before tearing your head off...but you see, I need this. If he lives, then my lord would not have a chance to succeed in the great reckoning, and we cannot have that! Oh no, we cannot" he smiled as Alva slumped over at last, and he gave her hair one last deep inhalation before pulling his blade from her and kicking her body to the wall. With one finally gesture of his wrath, his hand radiated a wave of intense heat as a large orb of flames formed in his palm before he tossed it into the air and ran outside. just as he had departed, the orb exploded and incinerated the home and everything in it with a blazing inferno, and Nillo Finally screamed in agonizing terror, shock, and grief as a plank fell from the house floor and bashed his head, leaving him there on the cellar floor without conscious thought as everything he and his mother had built...burned away into the night...

_His fate...sealed..._

_His fate...sealed..._

_Too late it may be...But hope...there may be..._

_Find him...give him strength..._

_Give him hope..._

_Give him...the weapons of thy enemy's demise... _


	3. Prologue 3: From Ashes We Rise

…smoke…

Air thick with smoke and ash…

That was all Nillo could smell, and what he felt was far worse. At first, he felt a searing pain inside of his head near the left ear. It was horrible and stinging, and what he could recall was being hit in the head by something…and then the memories seemed to hit him far harder. He had been hit in the head by a burning plank of floor board, which had been dislodged and set fame by ball of fire. The ball of fire had been unleashed after someone…no, the man or monster that attacked his village had…had…

Nillo sat up immediately, and instantly felt a wave of sickness and grief hit him with the force of a giant's club. He remembered what had happened…what he had seen…but no, it must have been just another nightmare! Surely he would wake up in the basement where he had fallen asleep after he returned home! All he had to do was open his eyes and he would see. He would know it to be a nightmare, but…as the young boy opened his eyes, everything was blurry and the light was a bit dimmed, and as it cleared he found himself inside of a tent. He looked around and saw people he knew; neighbors, fellow farmers, even children. All from his village, and they were either sitting on their cots, standing and murmuring to each other, or…they were crying around others who were not moving…

It hadn't been a nightmare after all. Rorikstead had indeed been attacked by the strange man. Nillo looked over the various people there. He saw elders with dressed wounds, men with missing limbs, everyone covered in soot, children huddled in corners and hugging their knees as they cried alone, and mothers weeping over the stilled forms of their loved ones and children. His body shook at this sight and his stomach churned. He slowly got up, struggling at first but quickly regaining his balance. He then moved to the tent entrance and slipped out before anyone could notice him, and stepped out into the frigid yet smoky air to face the fresh hell that awaited him.

Everything was gone, or at least in the sense of still being intact. The buildings were either burned down to the foundations, gutted by fire, or had just simply collapsed. The inn where the attack had begun was the only thing still standing, but just barely. It was a mess with Stormcloaks using it as a base of operations for the recovery and rescue effort they were attempting for the village. One soldier would rush out, and two more would rush in, and then vice versa. There were also three large piles in the center of town; one for salvaged goods, one for the bodies of livestock, and…one morbidly grotesque pile of recovered villager corpses. Nillo could recognize a few of them, and this heavily disturbed him to no end. What were worse, however, were the bodies of those who he could not recognize due to the bodies being incinerated or mutilated. He limped slowly through the village, his ankle still bothering him just a bit, as he tried to find Markayus. His friend had to have survived; surely he didn't die after all the survival training his father had given him.

His father…

Nillo lurched forward, his hands on his knees as he finally doubled over and let go of his stomach. Everything, all of this destruction and death, was too much for him to stay strong through.

"Hey kid, are you alright?" called out one of the soldiers as they and another rushed over. Nillo was shaking as he stood back up; tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked up at them in a daze.

"He doesn't look too good, Jenka. We should probably get him to the healer's tent" said another Stormcloak to the first, but she scoffed at his words.

"He isn't sick, Alken. The poor boy has seen too much for his age. He needs time and rest" her words seemed to pity him, but also held a sense of familiarity to Nillo's standing. Either way, she careful took Nillo into her arms and tried to ease him before guiding him back to the tent and laying him to down to rest his head. Nillo couldn't sleep, though, and he couldn't just lay there. The memory that stung him the most, the one that kept him awake, was what had happened to his mother. He had to know where she was, because she wasn't in the pile of corpses nor had she been hit directly with fire. Slowly, he got back up, and was just about to slip out again before being stopped by Elmric, the mayor and Gordon's father. Nillo flinched at first, expecting the older man to strike him for what had transpired the day before between himself and Gordon, but instead the man's words were soft and concerned for the boy.

"Nillo, do not get in there way. You must stay here and let yourself rest before we can do anything" his eyes were sullen and showed much sadness and distress at what befell his people.

"…but…where is momma…?" Nillo inquired with a shaky voice, tears still rolling down his cheeks. The elder's words were mere silence for what felt like hours. His lips pursed and relaxed every few seconds, obviously weighing his words for the boy. Finally, he spoke softly with great regret.

"Nillo…Alva has passed onto Sovngarde…" Nillo's hopes ended just as his heart had the very second he said 'past'; shattered, ground to dust, and blown away by the cold winds of the cruel world.

"She was sent to Falkreath to be embalmed and buried in 2 days. We…we wish to hold one more ceremony for her after she had sacrificed herself to drive off that madman…" Nillo looked up at him in confused grief.

"What did he mean by 'sacrificed her'? She died because of me! Because I didn't face him, because I was too weak!" Nillo screamed this to himself in his head as the Elder took notice of his confusion.

"She had saved us, as the madman had declared after their encounter. After he went into the house, he…"

Earlier that morning night….

The Elder watched the madman from within the inn, the fires that had danced about its frames having been subdued and extinguished mere moments before. The monster slammed his blade's hilt into Alva's door, and called out with sounded like glee at the poor woman's terror "Come on out, fated one! No one can keep you from me! Come out now, or do you wish to watch your dear beloved home burn to the ground?!" and his laugh echoed like that of a hagraven from the pits of oblivion itself. He waited only for a few seconds before taking his horrific weapon and tearing down the door.

Elmric could not make out was being said within, or even what was going on in general. He held his breath as he waited, stayed still, and watched. After about five minutes, the man emerged from the house, and to Elmric's horror the blade was covered in blood. Mere seconds later, the man snapped his fingers and laughed as the farm house exploded with fire, the straw roof catching flame with ease as he shrieked out into the night sky with unfounded delight, "The faited one is no more! His blood, just as his mother's, now douses my blade! My lord shall feast on their souls this night! Oh, he shall feast well! But cry not, petty mortals, for I will leave you to collect your dead. My business is done, just as the lives of all those who crossed my path tonight!" he smiled in sadistic glee and shrieked and howled in absolute delight before he was engulfed by a swirling aura of a spell that radiated with an odd purple runic sphere…and disappeared from the burning village.

Elmric did not even hesitate as he called to his men as they ran for the burning farm house "quickly! We must help them!" but to their despair, they found the previously impaled body of the woman who had always shown the village such kindness. As they searched about the house, trying desperately to smother the flames, they called out for Nillo. It took a short bit, but they found him through the hole in the floor boards, his head bleeding and his body covered by debris. Moving the crate and bashing open the cellar door; they quickly retrieved the young boy and were relieved to find him still alive before they carried him along with the body of his mother out of the still burning house and to the inn before doing the same for everyone.

Nillo sat in silence at the recalling of what happened. It was all he could do, if anything, for the shock to his system was great. As the elder began to tend to the other orphans, Nillo stood up, took a rusted iron dagger, and walked out without a word. He did not speak, he did not show any sign, but merely just walked on. He kept walking and left the village, heading into the plains aimlessly. As he looked around his surroundings, the sky grey and the fields of grass and dirt withering from the cold, everything seemed to have slowed down. He felt no wind's caress; no butterflies flew on by, any birds chirped. Everything, just as him, seemed to be in a state of mourning.

One would assume that the iron dagger he held was to help him join his mother, but that was not the case. No, Nillo felt no drive to die now, but instead move on. There was nothing holding him there anymore. In fact, there was nothing there for him anymore to begin with. He had not seen his best friend anywhere, dead or alive, despite seeing his father's body. He didn't care what would happen to himself any longer. All he did care about now…was finding the man who did all of this. He took his mother from him, his home, everything. He had to pay with blood one way or another, and Nillo was going to seek him out, one way or another or die trying. That was his only thought and drive, until a familiar claw raked through the air and sliced across his cheek with a snarl.

Nillo yelped as he fell over, cupping his cheek in stinging agony as he looked up to see what had attacked him. Standing over him was the familiar mangy form of the alpha wolf whose pack had been slaughtered indirectly because of him. Nillo shook in fear, drawing his dagger quickly to retaliate, but he couldn't. No, he was too afraid of the beast, too afraid to try and attack it only to be hurt by it. Mere seconds ago he would have attacked without a care, but now reality had struck and woken him from his daze. He wasn't a noble knight who could slay beasts and dragons, he was no hero who could overcome oblivion and its lords, and he was no champion of any empire who could save kings. He was a child. A CHILD and he were weak.

He just finally gave in and shut his eyes as he readied himself for death, but then he heard a voice in his head…a small echo…

_DIE like a COWARD and be FREE of pain… or LIVE and FIGHT your sorrows like a TRUE Champion…_

Nillo's eyes shot open and he gritted his teeth tightly together. He gripped the dagger in his hand, and screamed as he swung his arm into the beast's neck as hard as he could. The dagger had missed, but he had managed to knock the scrawny cur off of himself. Getting to his feet, panting heavily with adrenaline, Nillo took the dagger into both hands and readied himself again, this time to fight for survival. At the same time, the beast got to its feet and sprinted for the boy. Growling like the beast that dwelled within his Nordic soul, he LUNGED forward and RAMMED the blade right through the beast's head between its barren eyes. It fell to its side with a deep yelp, trembling as the last once of life within it drained away. Within seconds, it was left lying there; stilled and unmoving.

Nillo fell to his knees, panting deeply and shaking heavily as he came down from his rush. He looked at his kill, part of him proud with how he had done, but another regretful. Never before had he had to kill something to survive. For meat, either his mother would kill their livestock away from his observant eyes, or the hunters would bring back their catch of the day already dead. The feeling was…strange to the young boy. It was exciting and yet damning at the same time, but he knew what it meant to feel this. He now knew that this is what it means to kill for survival, this is what it means to fight to live, and this…this is what the real world is truly like.

"Nicely done, boy, you did better than most lone travelers would in your situation" came a familiarly deep voice. As Nillo turned, he saw the owner of the voice, finding it to be the man who had saved him from the other wolves. He was sitting on top of a large rock, and had seen everything, and he had a slight smile of approval. Nillo felt honored to have made him proud, and yet…he felt something inside stir with anger. This man had saved him from wolves and even seemed to use similar weapons as the monster that had attacked the village, but he hadn't even tried to stop the nightmare that killed so many including Nillo's mother.

"Where were you when Rorikstead was attacked?!" Nillo cried out bitterly to the man. Starring down at the boy, he frowns and lets out an annoyed sigh before replying.

"What good would have I been able to do? Your village had hunters and guards who far outnumbered myself, so where were they?" his voice revealed himself to be a bit on edge, as if the situation also troubled him.

"You were stronger than them! You have weapons that can do magics, which means you probably could also do magics as well! I bet you could have beaten him to a bloody pulp!" Nillo was glaring at him now, furious at his inaction to help.

"First off, boy, it is called Magicka. Not 'magics'. Second, what spells have you even seen me use? When I saved your ass yesterday, I could have just as easily used a spike of ice, a bolt of lightning, or even a spear of flames to eliminate the mongrels" he paused as he surveyed Nillo's expression, noting how his eyes seemed to burn with a thirst for vengeance "…but did I use them? No, instead I used what I had at my disposal; Grief and Sorrow." Nillo's glare was quickly replaced with a confused look, the same he had seen on neutered dogs when they see a bitch in heat. He let out a long sigh, and continued his explanation, pulling out his two ebony swords.

"Grief and Sorrow are my weapons of choice when facing simple beasts and lesser men. They are enchanted, meaning that they have spells placed upon them. In their case, they each have a fire attunement to their edges so that they will incinerate any unlucky bastard who dares stand in my way or even just carelessly insult me." The blade glowed with a dim red aura; an aura that Nillo could swear gave off a heat that he could feel even from where he stood.

"Well then with your weapons, you could have still fought him! You could have saved my friends and their families! You could have saved…"he stopped at that word as he found himself choking on it. Just saying it was painful, and it stung him even more to think about it. "…you could have saved my momma…" The man looked down at the boy with pity before looking to the village in the short distance.

"There wasn't much I could have done. Weapon combat is more to my preference, not magicka which is something that he seemed to have specialized with along with melee combat. Magicka in general is stronger than any sword arm if he can keep to a safe enough distance. What's more, if I had decided to fight him there in the village, no one would have survived if he decided to unleash much larger and more destructive spells, and…" he stopped as he noticed that Nillo was looking down at his feet with tear-filled eyes, his shattered heart filling with despair at the man's words. He left it at that as he let out a sigh and stood up, jumping down beside Nillo. "At any rate, I need to move on. There isn't anything here for me…well, there isn't anything here in general" he shrugged carelessly as he looked up to find a pair of Stormcloaks running over to them. As they got closer, the man stepped back to give them space, watching them closely from where he stood.

"Are you Nillo of Rorikstead?" the first Stormcloak asked, his breath heavy with panting after an obviously frenzied search, and the second seemed to be better off as they both watched Nillo nod his head slowly and silently without looking up. "Thank the nine divines! We have been searching everywhere for you! Come with us, we need to get you back to take care of that nasty scratch on your cheek. There is also a wagon waiting to take you and the other orphans away to your new home in Riften." Nillo had heard of Riften from travelers, how unsavory it was, how the thieves' guild was nestled there, and how there was a cursed orphanage. They attempted to guide Nillo back, but he wouldn't budge. He stayed silent, unmoving, uncaring. Everything he had known was gone; his best friend, his home, and his mother.

"no…I don't want to go…" his voice was dulled and weighed down with sadness as he spoke, "everything is gone…everything I knew…I don't want to go to some home far off, I want…" the man listened closely as his skin began to itch slightly, a sign that there was a source of strong power nearby, "I want the blood of that monster…I want his head!" Nillo began to shake as more tears rolled down his cheeks, his eyes shut tight at the stinging of it all. The Stormcloak soldiers starred at him, one quite disturbed by the young boy's words and the other shaking his head as he watched Nillo grieve. The man smirked, for he saw what they could not: the dark aura that flowed around Nillo, one of untapped magicka marked by a lord of oblivion. It appeared…he had not failed his master after all…

Nillo shot open his eyes as the guards screamed. What he saw was something that was both as disturbing as what he had seen the previous night and just as horrifying: the man who had saved him the day before was changing forms. One could hear his bones crack, his flesh stretch and rip, hair on his body growing longer, his arms and fingers becoming long and beastly, his legs elongating and his feet becoming like those of a wolf! His armor seemed to disappear into his flesh, melding into it as black smoke that became black hair…no, fur! His head also became long as his ears extended, his face growing a snout, and his eyes and teeth became monstrous! His eyes…his eyes were cold and dark, bloodlust heavy within. They looked exactly like his; black sclera and blood red iris.

"RUN! WEREWO-"the first guard chocked his words on blood as the beast's claw ripped through his neck, tearing it in half as his partner could only scream in terror. Without even so much as a care for Nillo, his partner dropped his weapon and began to run for dear life. All that mattered to him was running for safety, getting away from the monster that slaughtered his partner with such ease. Nillo shook, believing he was next, but the beast ignored him and took off after the soldier and within a mere second and a half, he talked him down before using his massive clawed hands to tear the soldier apart as he lay screaming for help. It was all over before Nillo realized, and the beast slowly turned to him as it began to walk back over. Nillo backed away slowly only to pin his back against the stone behind him. As the beast stood mere yards away, it stood upright and changed form back into the man; armor and all.

Nillo stared at him in awe as the man starred back at him. He no longer seemed beastly, but rather more like the Nordic giant he had been all along before now. Nillo gulped nervously, about to speak when the man quickly grabbed him and began to run towards the base of the nearby mountain range. Finding a decent sized boulder, he hid behind it with Nillo as they watched more soldiers ran to where the other two lay dead. They called out for more men, trying to figure out what all had happened, but unable to comprehend the truth. Nillo looked up at the man as they crouched behind the boulder, confused.

"I will explain later. First, we need to retrieve any valuables you may have from the village. Then, you will come with me, and I will help you get vengeance." His voice was low to an almost whisper, his tone dark and ominous, and yet Nillo felt he could trust him. For one, as a werewolf he did not attempt to kill the boy. Secondly, the man seemed to only have committed the slaughter out of protection of Nillo. Third, the man's eyes were the same as those of the attacker, so there was a good chance that he knew enough about that monster to know how to find and kill him. Still, even if Nillo went with him, he had very little chance of succeeding in his endeavors, but then again without him there would be no chance at all; now or ever again. Nillo weighed his options carefully…for about six seconds before making up his mind. He looked up at the man, determination burning in his eyes as he spoke boldly.

"Let's go to the house first so I can get my stuff. Then…I want you to teach me how to kill…"

They had waited until sunset with very little choice. As far as everyone knew, Nillo had vanished and was long gone and Magnus, as he had introduced himself as, had preferred it that way. He needed them to think Nillo dead at least, or else he would have to kill more innocent lives who challenged him. As brazen as he was about taking lives, he wished never to do so as long as it could be helped. However at this hour, as the sun was already down and Secunda was out in its brilliance. The soldiers had left with the orphans and any survivors wishing to seek out a new life in another village or town. There were few people still in Rorikstead, and they were all within the inn's remains with a barricaded door, not wishing to come out after what had happened.

Nillo stepped up to the door of his house, looking about the yard as he did. Crops turned to ash, chicken coops charred and gutted by flames, and a mound of dirt that covered his mother's beloved cow Carlia. Nillo started to dwell on it all for a second before Magnus cleared his throat, reminding him to keep going. He quickly shook his head and stepped into the door way as Magnus lit a torch. The sight revealed before them was not a pretty one; the floors and walls were black with burns, the furniture and books ruined and unusable and unreadable respectively, and the floor by the cellar door…a nasty sight indeed for Nillo. There was a slight reddish hue, the remaining blood of his mother. He shook as he kneeled down to it and stroked the stain, his eyes barrowing in pain.

She was a hero…

No…he didn't want a hero, he wanted his mother! She had died to protect him, even after he got angry at her and screamed at her. Worst of all…he never got to say he was sorry…that he loved her…or even goodbye…

"Death is not easy for anyone…no matter how old you may be. The young cannot grasp its concept, the old deny it as if doing so will spare them for it, and everyone in between either wishes for it or spends there days as if it will never happen to them. Death is inevitable, Nillo, and it is best accepted as such…" his voice was oddly calm and gentle, showing his wish to share his wisdom as comfort to the boy.

"It hurts…It hurts so bad…I never told her I loved her or that I was sorry for screaming at her…and…and she died to save my ungrateful hide…" Nillo finally fell to his knees and covered his face as he let it all out. His sobs echoed into the night air as Magnus put his hand on Nillo's back. Giving comfort was not his forte by any means, but he knew that the boy needed closer, and needed it badly. He stood up and looked about the house in search of something, anything that they could use as well as something that would remind Nillo of his family and his time here before they left it all behind them. There was nothing in the house itself untouched by flame, but he did manage to find the cellar opening. Leaving the torch with Nillo, he held his palm out into the darkness and whispered into it "Aurious…" and with that a ball of light fired off and into the cellar. Carefully he dropped down into the cellar, landing hard on his feet with a grunt. Nillo, unbeknownst to Magnus, had seen the spell being cast. He frowned and crawled over to the cellar door before carefully climbing down the ruined ladder.

"You said you couldn't use magicka! You lied to me!" Magnus frowned at the boy in surprise, not expecting him to be there. "You could have defended us! You-"

"I never said anything of the sort, boy" he let out a low growl that made Nillo swallow his words regretfully before continuing "I only said that I preferred using weapons instead of spells. I have a…lack of spells in the destruction school. I know a tiny bit of illusion, some minor destruction, just enough restoration to get by on my own, and almost no alteration. Conjuration, however…" his voice grew hushed as a dark grin crossed his face "conjuration is more to my liking. It is what I guess I can do better than sword play itself."

"What is conjuration, Magnus?" Nillo inquired with great curiosity, having been struck with great interest by how secretive Magnus had made it seem.

"Conjuration is the art of summoning things to our realm from the depths of oblivion itself. To be a conjurer, one must dabble with the moral-less Daedra." Nillo gasped in shock. He had heard of such people before, always having been told that they were pure evil, using forbidden dark arts to curse others and use the suffering of innocents to gain power. "But…I care not for communing with the Daedra. My tastes are far more…how to put it…macabre" he chuckled darkly, waiting for Nillo to bite onto the lure.

"'Macabre'? How is it that?" Nillo waited on an answer as the spell of light began to ward off and the darkness grew, and just as it faded completely, Magnus whispered through the silence.

"Necromancy: the dark art of death puppetry…" Magnus immediately sent out another 3 orbs of light to illuminate the cellar. He looked to Nillo, finding him with a grim look upon his face and unsure eyes. "Necromancy is forbidden, as I am sure you know. Most do not take kindly to disturbing the dead with magicka, allowing the corpses of loved ones and heroes alike to walk the face of Nirn again. They will obey their master's command, and will do as told so long as enough magicka is placed within them." Nillo should have been horrified by this, even outraged, but he was neither. Where most would see this man as a monster, Nillo saw him as an opportunity. He knew how to raise the dead, something few others knew. Then, Nillo realized, if he knew he could most certainly teach him. And if Nillo knew this art, then…maybe, just maybe, he could have his old life back again…

They searched around, and to Magnus's surprise and Nillo's relief, they found food and drinks well preserved inside barrels, sacks, and cabinets. Salt piles, meats, apples, tomatoes, potatoes, elf ear leafs, garlic, and cabbages. There were even a few politices of red and blue, medicines, a couple of books, and the oddest thing of all: a small belt with pouches and a bear's head emblem. Nillo recognized it immediately.

"This was a gift from my dad when I was born…momma said it was done yet because he had to leave…" Magnus took it carefully in his hands and examined it closely.

"It would appear that it was designed for traveling. These are medicine pouches; these are slots for potion vials, this is for carrying coins, and this is a slot for holding a small sword or even a dagger." He gently handed it back to Nillo before carefully packing everything they needed up, but oddly enough not the produce they had found.

"No fruits or vegetables? But we need to eat!" Nillo looked to his companion with concern, confused at his choice.

"We need to take what will last, not what will rot away within a day or so. All the same, we must pack lightly, or else be weighted down with shit we do not need" he grunted with annoyance. Nillo looked around and placed the apple he had grabbed on top of a barrel.

"Although, it would be a shame to let it go to waste…" Magnus mumbled to himself, contemplating their next course of action. After a moment, he took apart a barrel, saving the wood from the metal. He then carefully stacked the wooden planks before taking in a small breath, holding his palm up, and releasing gout of fire to ignite it. Nillo stood in pure awe, which amused Magnus as he realized that, until now, the boy most likely had not had any experience around magicka.

"We will stay here for the night until just before the sun begins to rise. We must be far from here once everyone wakes, or else we risk being found."

"Is that really so bad? I mean, they're probably just worried about me…"

"As far as they know, you are missing at least and possibly dead by now. If they know you are alive, they would try to take you back and place you in an orphanage. If they were to try that, then I cannot guarantee their survival." Nillo looked at him in disgust, for how could he be so without remorse towards innocent lives that had already suffered.

"How can you just kill them like that?! They are innocent people with their own families who don't deserve to be killed just because of me!" Nillo shook in anger, outraged by his companion's calm sociopathic words. His outburst, however, was met with an annoyed sigh.

"You wish to kill the man who did…all of this to your village?" he waved his hand about, acknowledging the state of Nillo's home. Nillo narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly "then you must become my apprentice. Then, and only then, will I teach you what you need to know and what you need to be strong enough to achieve what you desire. However, if I see a threat to your apprenticeship, or your own well-being, I will eliminate it without a second thought."

Nillo continued to glare at him for a few minutes, eliciting a role of the eyes and a groan as he pulled an iron caste pot from a cabinet, and carefully set it up for cooking. Nillo finally sighed and looked down; coming to terms with what he had been thrown into. He could walk away from the man, and never look back, but what good would that do now? He had NOTHING here anymore, except a destroyed house. He needed to leave here and find a way to either survive or get revenge against that monster. With Magnus, however, it would seem that both ends could be met simultaneously just by being his apprentice. It seemed to be the easiest choice he could make, and far better than living in a dirty city full of criminals and crooked men.

"What do I need to do to become your apprentice? Does it require slaying a beast, going into a tomb, or finding a lost ancient weapon?" his question was met with a scoff by Magnus, whom he honestly could not tell whether he was amused or annoyed by the inquiry.

"Leave those acts to the bard's tongue, boy. No one but the hunters of beasts and treasures, the greedy for fame and fortune, or the purely stupid would do such things. To become my apprentice, you must pledge yourself in service to me for two whole years. To do so, you will need a drop of your own blood spilled onto this…" he pulled away from the bubbling stew he was cooking in order to reach into his bag and pull out an odd book. It had no pages visible, as it was bound in what appeared to be ebony casing and hardened leather of black flesh. The most prominent feature of it, however, was that there was an image on the cover that looked like a rune circle containing a hand print, both appearing to be having been imprinted and wrote using blood. Being even near it gave Nillo a sense of fear as he could swear that he heard whispers coming from the tome. Nervously, he held out his hand to Magnus who held a dagger that looked eerily similar to the blade wielded by the man from the night before.

Carefully, Magnus took Nillo's pointer finger and ran a small edge of the blade against it. This in turn made Nillo whimper in slight pain, and it showed that the young boy had little threshold to pain. Magnus frowned as this bothered him considerably, knowing that the boy was going to be difficult to train after all. Slowly, Nillo's blood began to ooze out of his small flesh wound, and dripped down onto the image of the hand print. It glowed faintly with a red aura, and Nillo felt his body…no, his very soul, become infused with the book. It was horrifying, and yet invigorating at the same time.

"…and that is it. You, Nillo, are now my apprentice; a child of death, a child of vengeance."

Nillo looked at his finger as more blood dripped down its length, and slowly closed his eyes as he prayed to the divines and even what force had led Magnus to him, "please…please do not let me regret this choice…" Nillo then opened his eyes to find his master holding out the handle of the dagger that had just been used as he held the blade between his fingers. Nillo starred at it before looking up into Magnus's eyes in confusion.

"This blade is now your own. It is called 'Venom', for its touch will always hurt and its strike shall always kill its wielder's enemies. You will train with this first, and then as you grow stronger you will learn to use a sword properly" his dark eyes, though hidden, seemed to radiate with pride. His voice, however, seemed to hold a tone of warning.

"What is the catch to this deal and blade?" Nillo asked slowly and cautiously.

"A catch…well, there is one but one…" he said rather gently with a slight smile, only for it to become a frown and his voice to become deep and a bit harsh again, "Do not make me regret my decision, boy, for tomorrow morning we start early, we leave early, and you begin to face the sphere of oblivion you are now trapped in!" and with that, Magnus finished preparing their meal before they ate and then turned in for the night after Magnus gulped down all of the reserved ale in the cellar. As the man slept away in his cot, the fire having gone out, Nillo spent the last half-hour of his wake starring up through the hole in the floor board and the hole in the roof, and watched the moon, stars, and sky auras. He knew not what was ahead of him, but he did know that, no matter what, he would not rest nor give up until he found the monster again and ended his tyranny once and for all. Tomorrow, it would begin. Tomorrow…His new hell started…

_...the darkness calls…the darkness calls…_

_Come, child of Coldharbour…you must listen…_

_Your task ends not…your task ends not…_

_Sleep now, if you wish…sleep now, if you dare…_

_You have failed your master again…you have killed no champion…_

_Seek him out when you wake…tear his heart open, and his soul you take…_

_Bal knows…Bal…Knows…_


	4. Prologue 4: New Dawn's Shadow

Nillo starred at the remains of his house, his eyes conveying a wary sadness. This was it, today was the day he would start his new life as Magnus's apprentice. Yet, he wasn't saddened by this. He was said because he was afraid; what would this new life hold, and would he ever come back to Rorikstead when he was stronger? Would he even be able to come back at all, or would he merely die at the hands of the monster who slew his friends and the only family he had? In that moment, Nillo closed his eyes and whispered to himself a promise he would uphold.

"Ten years…in ten years if I live, I will come back no matter what…" Wiping away a tear, he looked up to see Magnus with a bag full of their supplies, eyeing him suspiciously as Nillo blushed slightly in embarrassment. "What? I AM leaving home for the first time…"

Magnus sighed and nodded as, to Nillo's surprise; he pulled out the last bottle of ale from his mother's reserves. He could have sworn that Magnus had drank it all the night before, given his smell and the odd mumblings he made in his drunken sleep. Nillo watched closely as his master walked over to the mound of dirt that held the deceased cow, Carlia, and poured the ale onto it as he said a prayer to the divines and an odd being named Hircine. This actually did well for Nillo as it gave him comfort, knowing she would go to Sovngarde without being eaten by the spirits of the hungry Nordic heroes that dwell there. Soon, the house was behind them as was Rorikstead and they were on their way west. Within the first two hours of their journey, as the sun began to rise, Nillo had already begun to whine and complain as any young child would about walking so far nonstop.

"How much farther do we have to go? Rorikstead is already miles behind us!" his obnoxiously whiny child voice rang out for the twelfth time that morning, eliciting a growl from Magnus as they walked even further.

"We are only what must be an hour and a half into our travels, with the sun rising and the moon setting, and you're already complaining?" He glared at the boy, only to be met with an equally annoyed glare.

"You said we would walk until sunrise and then have breakfast!"

"…you said you and your mother were farmers, yes?"

"Yes, we were until yesterday-"

"Then how is it that, despite the hard working life style of a farmer, you can compel yourself to complain and whine nonstop like some high bred daughter of a jarl?!" he snarled at the boy, both truthfully perplexed by at his capacity to be so self-centeredly weak and yet claim to have the drive for bloodied vengeance.

Nillo stopped and glared at him, his ears pink from the insult. He already had dealt with 8 years of being called a girl by the other boys of his village, and he surely did not want to hear it from a grown man who claimed to have any kind of care for him. Magnus didn't stop walking, however. He merely kept on and didn't seem to notice that Nillo wasn't right behind him until he whistled, "Hey, either keep up with me, or you will strand yourself here in the wilderness. I will not wait, nor will I mourn for your passing at the claws of a troll!" Nillo's jaw dropped, shocked and horrified at Magnus's words. All the same, however, they worked as Nillo looked around the fields and swore he saw movement at the edges of the hills. He darted to Magnus's side, seeking safety with the man rather than his own premature death.

"Magnus?"

"Yes boy?"

"What kind of dagger is this?" Nillo asked curiously, holding up the blade gifted to him by his master.

"It is called Daedric make, and yes it is the same Daedric as the peoples of oblivion. It was carved from an ebony ingot, bathed in frostbite venom, and baptized through the black heart of a Xivilai" his voice was dark yet proud of the blade's birth as Nillo listened in shocked silence. He quickly put the blade away, afraid to even hold it now aside from defending himself.

After another hour of travel, they arrived at the Bard's Leap Summit; a large ancient Nordic structure with multiple layers in the design of fortress walls and a bridge that extends roughly seven to nine meters out over tall water fall. Nillo smiled in amazement at the site, and was about to run further out onto the structure's bridge before being stopped by Magnus's hand upon his shoulder. Looking up at his master, he saw a wary look upon his face before he shook his head.

"No further, or you could fall off."

"What?! But the path looks stable enou-" his words were cut short as a loud cracking echoed through the air and soon a large tremor of the earth shook them both as Magnus grabbed Nillo and ran back and away from the structure and the bridge and onto dry solid land. As all settled back down, with exception from the birds, Nillo stood back up and slowly approached the structure with great caution. What he saw made his jaw drop and his heart sink; the structure that had been at the top of the waterfall had crumbled away, the remaining half of the bridge laying in the pool at the fall's feet, and the rest either joining it or scattered around the small plaza like structure that surrounded the pool. Magnus had saved his life twice over by not only keeping him from walking further out onto it but also carrying him away from it as it broke.

"I-it…it broke?!"

"It would appear so, and I doubt that was by natural means…" Magnus replied coldly, his voice holding a sense of suspicion and caution as he surveyed the remaining parts of the structure.

"Why do you say that? It was pretty old…maybe it finally couldn't stand anymore?" Nillo suggested with a shrug, only to be met with a grunt from his companion.

"No, it hasn't been used in about a century, or at least as far as any knows or has bothered to record. The last report of anyone being here was some mad man claiming to be the Dragonborn. He probably could have passed off as him given that he slew the hagraven coven and their Reachmen worshippers that once dwelled here at the time…but then he climbed to the edge of the bridge, and jumped off. His last words were, and I quote this from a traveling Khajiit, 'No regeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerts!'" This made Nillo instantly break down into a fit of laughter, having never heard of something so ridiculous and yet hysterically grim. As Nillo whipped away a tear from his eye after crying so hard, he could have sworn he saw a faint smile on Magnus's face. It somehow brought hope to Nillo, an idea that maybe Magnus was not a truly evil or malicious in being, but just another human after all. His thoughts were immediately pushed away, however, when Magnus turned to him and spoke firmly with much seriousness in his tone.

"We will set up camp here for the next few days. It will be perfect for you to hone your survival and combat skills."

"I'm ready, Magnus!" Nillo exclaimed with pride and excitement matched with both his tone and the smile on his face. He quickly pulled out venom, his dagger that Magnus had gifted to him, and held it as if it were a sword. Magnus quickly shook his head and slapped the blade out of Nillo's hands, leaving the boy yelping in shock. Nillo looked to him, and glared with a mix of anger and slight humiliation at having his hands slapped like a small child.

"What in oblivion was that for?! You said we were going to train for survival and combat!"

"Yes, but before you begin using weapons, you need to learn how to fight with your fists" Magnus replied with a returning glare.

"Says the giant Nord with wolf claws" Nillo remarked with a sideways smile.

"Listen runt, and listen closely; from here on out, your easy going farm life is dead and done. From now on, you do as told; I say jump you do not ask how high, you jump!" Nillo gulped nervously, Magnus's voice deep and threatening to him as he nodded slowly at his words, "Understood?"

"Y-yes sir-"

"UNDERSTOOD?!"

"Yes sir!"

"Good. Now…see that tree over there?" Nillo looked to the medium sized tree that his master had pointed out, and nodded, "Every morning at dawn, you will go to it and punch it to the slow count of 100. When done, you will do it again and again and again until I return that morning with a bucket of water. If you are still under 100 by my return, then keep going until I tell you to stop. Afterwards, you will wash your hands and skin with the water and begin hunting and gathering for food. Following that, you will begin weapon training until sunset when we eat and turn in for the night."

Nillo's jaw had fallen so low with these words, and his palms were sweaty with fear. Punch a tree 100 times in multiple successions and then go hunting? If that were not enough, which Magnus didn't seem to think it was, he also had to complete combat training afterwards for Divines knew how long before sunset! This wasn't training, this was torture and child brutality! However it would not matter either way given that he had no way out anymore aside from his own blade, and his chances of that were slim with Magnus watching over him.

"S…so where do we start? It is already noon…" Nillo asked nervously, awaiting his fate.

"Yes, it is noon so we must find food now. Your first lesson will be foraging for herbs and other edible goods such as bird eggs, berries, and mushrooms" his words were calm as his voice spoke out in a matter-of-fact manner.

Nillo wasn't all too eager to forage for food, given that he had been looking forward to using his dagger. If he was excited, he made no effort to show it. A good five hours were spent dedicated to gathering juniper berries, white caps, and any hawk eggs that Nillo could climb a tree to retrieve. All in all, their harvest was not a terrible one, but would last only two days at best. Nillo had managed to find some pride in his work, having found a red root that Magnus seemed too afraid to try and gather himself. That night, as Magnus stoked the fire, Nillo eagerly bit into the root. He only found the bitter and rancid flavor of the root, and quickly felt his muscles spasm in hot pain.

"Stupid boy that is cannis root! I told you not to even touch it!" Magnus growled furiously as Nillo doubled over and vomited back up his small meal. He could only curl up into a ball, feeling weak and stiff and lethargic while his muscles burned furiously. Magnus moved over to the boy, examining him and the root.

"I-it hurts…!"

"I bet it does, runt. Cannis root causes minor paralyzes in the body as well as vomiting. It will even cause internal bleeding if you have never consumed it before, but judging by how much you have eaten…" he said as he looked the root over with care, "…you will be fine, but it was still very foolish of you. Now you are in for a rough night and an even more difficult morning. Rest up" and with that, Magnus carefully placed the boy on his cot inside the tent before going to his own, laying down, and closing his eyes to sleep. Indeed it was a rough night, for Nillo tossed and turned as much as he possibly could in his weakened state for the first three hours, and the remaining six were filled with nightmares and a burning within his stomach. When Magnus woke him the next morning, he took note of how ill Nillo seemed.

"Come on, boy, you need to get washed up…" he sighed as he guided the boy down to the pool of water beneath the falls before allowing him privacy to bathe. After he finished up, it was time to start his grueling training with the train. Neither Nillo nor the tree seemed too thrilled about the exercise, and after just two punches he felt stupid and ridiculous.

"Not like that! Pull your arm back until your fist is beside your chest, and then extend it out fast while turning your body in that same way."

Nillo did as told, and in no time managed to grasp the basic motion of throwing a proper punch. Sadly, he still did not have the energy to put much force into it, and Magnus groaned with annoyance as the boy weakly punched away at the tree's bark. Stopping him, Magnus pulled out a small light green bottle and handed it to Nillo, saying "see this? This is a potion of stamina. Your obviously still too weak from the Cannis root, so down this and try again after a minute."

Though very bitter in taste, the potion had an immediate effect on Nillo as he felt himself become hyperactive and full of new found energy. He began to hammer away at the tree, believing that he could break it now if he wanted to, and boy did he want to! It didn't take him long to realize that his idea was rather foolish, however, as the pain registered in his brain. Stopping to catch his breath, he looked down to find his hands bloodied and bruised. What disturbed him far more, however, was the realization that he was only at the count of thirty-one of his first 100! Only thirty-one, and still now marks on the tree aside from his own blood! Nillo cringed at the pain, and was about to stop when he heard his master's bark, "Hey now, no slacking off boy! You still have seventy-nine punches to go before the next round!"

Nillo shook as sweat rolled down his face. He had continued after Magnus's command, but found little to no will to continue other than the fear of his master's reprisal against his unwillingness to continue. After the second round, Magnus had left in order to gather water in the bucket, leaving Nillo alone.

"At last!" he thought to himself as he slowed to a stop, "I can rest for a second before he gets ba-"

"GET BACK TO PUNCHING THE TREE!" Nillo jumped as Magnus's voice boomed from where ever he was, obviously keeping an eye on him somehow. Nillo could only groan as he continued, praying for either a miracle, the tree's destruction, or his own. After another three rounds, Magnus returned with the bucket to find Nillo cradling his hands, and barked "let me see them!" Nillo showed his master his now broken and blood covered hands, and was met with a smile and proud chuckle, "yes, this is what I want to see every morning! They bleed and lay broken in your lap now, but within weeks they will be strong enough to punch through a bear!"

Nillo wasn't sure whether to be proud, angry, or even more disturbed at this madman's macabre sense of humor. Taking Nillo's hands into his own (which was difficult given the boy's stubborn lack of resilience to pain), he began to wash them in the bucket's water before beginning to chant softly. Before Nillo's eyes, a bright white light glowed around his smaller hands, and the pain began to fade away rapidly. The stinging was ended as bones fused, muscle mended, and tissue reformed and regenerated. To his amazement, Magnus had healed his wounded hands with ease in mere seconds.

"How did you fix my hands?! How did you do that?!" Nillo's wonderment was met with a grunt from the older man.

"It is restoration magicka; more specifically a spell called 'Healing Hands'. It allows me to heal a comrade when they are injured" his voice was calm but hid a certain dislike for Nillo's lack of magicka understanding, "you will need to learn it at some point, boy, along with a basic healing spell. They will save your scrawny ass when you need them most. Now…" he let go of Nillo's hands and stood up before walking over to a large bag, pulling out bear traps, "now we begin the hunt."

Hunting was something quite different from gathering herbs and berries. First, Magnus had to teach which game ate which herbs and plants. First they needed to catch a rabbit to lure bigger game, and this seemed rather simple. All Nillo needed to do was set the bear trap, place an elves ear leaf in the center, set the sensitive part of the trap, and leave it alone. He learned that this part was the simple part, but it was what he needed to do when the trap was triggered that the difficulties began. First, it was seeing the bunny there with its bloodied and mangled foot caught and twisted up in the trap. This was disturbing by itself, but then there was the rabbit's screams. Oh did it scream! Nillo never before thought that animals could scream, but this was proof of just how wrong he was. Then, when it saw him approach, it struggled madly and screamed louder in desperation to escape, knowing its end was about to come. Nillo moved in with Magnus's steel dagger, ready to strike…but he could not do it. How could he? This was an innocent animal, a bunny who he had hurt by doing this, and he could not stand by and let it suffer. With a sigh, he opened the trap and set it free, watching it limp down the hill as a snarl echoed from the bush nearby. To Nillo's horror, a fox darted from the bush and snatched the rabbit up in its maw before running away into the wilds with its kill.

"You couldn't kill a weak little rabbit?" a familiar voice growled behind him.

"How could I?! It was defenseless and an innocent creature! It never hurt anyone!" Nillo yelled tearfully.

"Innocence is a false concept in the animal world. You either kill to live or die hungry, and if you cannot kill your dinner then you will starve out here!" Nillo glared at him in disgust, but very quickly his face loosened as he began to look down at his feet. Magnus was right; every hunter must kill their food, no matter what it is. He may have saved that rabbit from the trap, but his action had only allowed for a fox to take it instead. To survive out here in this wilderness, Nillo had to kill or risk being killed by the various creatures that dwelled out here.

"Are you done sulking?" Magnus growled.

"…yes. I'm going to try again" Nillo looked up to his master with pure determination burning in his eyes. He no longer had a simple life to live, and needed to prove to his teacher that he was ready to prove himself a strong survivor. And so, Nillo reset the trap and waited quietly for another rabbit to come along. He waited, and waited, and waited…but nothing came along. His one chance at food for the night was gone, all because of his hesitance. Just as he was about to turn and start foraging for herbs again, he heard a loud bleat from behind a brush. From it emerged a moderately sized goat, a nice fat one at that! Nillo's eyes widened as he held deadly still, and watched and waited. Slowly, the goat moved over to the trap, sniffing the elves ear leaves before lowering its head and taking the pile…only for the trap to SNAP shut on its face, causing it to scream and bleat in agony as it tossed and struggled about on the ground. Nillo was disturbed by this sight, just as he had been with the rabbit, but he did not hesitate this time. This time, Nillo charged at the goat, dagger drawn, and STABBED right into the damned creature's neck before slicing along its throat. With a few more twitches and a gurgled spray of blood, the goat became still and silent.

"Not bad, boy, not bad. It looks like you now have your dinner for the night" came the voice of his master. Nillo turned to him, smiling proudly at his kill, but quickly frowned as he saw that Magnus had a familiar fox in his hand along with three pheasants.

"Where did you get that fox…?"

"Found this sneaky bastard trying to make off with my pheasants. Greedy little thing didn't last long against a well-placed flash of the blade" he sneered in his usual dark manner.

"So…what are you going to do with that? We can't eat it…"

"Oh no, we can eat anything that has meat. But this…this I have better plans for…" he smiled with an unsettling glee, making Nillo tremble slightly.

The training session for weapons was a brighter event for Nillo, especially after watching Mag us skin the goat, fox, and pheasants. It was a bloody sight, and Nillo had almost lost what little remained within his stomach from the night before. Armed with wooden sticks, Magnus taught him the basic stances for sword play, as well as the basic movements. Nillo caught on surprisingly fast, but then again his best friend was a redguard whose father was a retired mercenary. Nillo was quick, but did not have much strength behind his attacks. While he caught on to parrying and side-stepping attacks, he stood very small against well placed attacks with greater force. Blocking was his weakness, and Magnus took note of this by saying "from now on, you will also begin doing stretches and exercises before punching the tree. You need to build some muscle mass, boy, or else you would only stand as to be a thief."

The next few days continued in this manner; rising before sunrise to exercise and stretch, punching the tree to multiple counts of 100, washing up and healing his hands for the day, hunting and foraging for food, and then weapon training until sunset. The training was grueling and trying on Nillo's body, but he kept up with the sole drive of becoming stronger. It was on the seventh day, however, that the training became different. Magnus had decided that Nillo was now ready to begin his study of using Magicka and spells, and somehow procured three books on the subject. One book was specifically focused on restoration, while the second was focused on destruction. The final one, however, was the very same book that Magnus had the young boy make the blood oath with. Magnus made it clear, however, that Nillo needed to first grasp the basics of Magicka before he could even open the book. His first lessons where of the basic Ayleid elements; earth, air, fire, and light. He went into depth of how the purest form of light was starlight, and how the ancient Ayleids had harvested it. What came next were the basic elements for the destruction school; fire, ice, and lightning. With these, he went to into extensive lectures about how each reacts with various things in the world as well as how trying to manipulate either one was dangerous and even lethal if Nillo knew not what he was doing. At last, he came to Nillo's first field lesson; healing. Healing spells required not only focus and an inner peace of mind, but also the wielder's inner light. The inner light within Nillo was needed in order to power the spells, which made enough sense to the young boy.

"The easiest way to bring that light to surface, is to focus on a happy thought or memory. It must be a strong one that makes your heart warm and your mind fill with peace" Magnus said calmly as he watched Nillo carefully make a small cut into his finger before closing his eyes and focusing.

A happy memory…

Being with Markayous at last autumn's harvest feast…

Nillo opened his eyes and focus his feelings of peace and happiness into his hand as a light began to fill his palm. But just as he had begun to smile at his accomplishment, it faded and left the boy feeling empty. The memory no longer felt warm and happy, only just a memory of what was. He trembled and looked to Magnus who was watching intently as the cut on Nillo's finger began to drip blood onto his palm. Was the memory not strong enough? Was it not peaceful enough? No, it wasn't, as at that very feast Nillo was humiliated by Gordon in front of everyone. That was why it had not worked, because it was also tainted with bad memories. He needed something stronger, something warm and comforting…and then he thought of a strange, almost foreign memory; it was of himself looking up at the ceiling of his house, and there smiling down at him was a young man beside his mother. He didn't know why he hadn't remembered it fully until now, but he could remember clearly what the man would say, of how Nillo had his mother's hair and her warmth in his eyes. It was…comforting…and truly happy…and then Nillo opened his eyes to find his hand wrapped in the bright golden light of his spell as it not only healed his finger, but also his scars and even the wound on his head from the night that the man had attacked. As he looked to Magnus, he saw a look of pride in the man's expression, but it soon changed to worry as Nillo keeled-over in a daze.

"Easy there, boy, you used too much of your magicka reserves" he said with a surprising amount of care as he helped Nillo up onto his feet, "magicka loss can make you lose conscious if you use too much of it."

"I…I did it…" Nillo smiled in amazement at what he had done, but as he looked up he found Magnus walking away back to the camp. Then, a thought came to his mind; what did Magnus imagine when he had healed him? "Magnus, what do you think of when you heal yourself or me?"

He stopped, but did not turn as he stood there in silence for many moments before very quietly mumbling "My wife and son…"

And so Nillo's training continued in this manner for roughly six months with his survival, combat, and magicka training. It was difficult, but after the first two months he could swear that his fists wear making dents into the tree. After the third month, however, his hands were no longer becoming injured from punching the tree. Magnus had also taught Nillo how to hunt with a bow, which a couple of times had gotten them into trouble when Nillo accidently hit a traveler or caravan that was passing through the area. At the start of the fourth month, Nillo began to learn conjuration alongside the other schools he was being taught. His training in conjuration, however, was focused specifically on how to summon bound swords, bows, and daggers.

"Focus your energy into your palm, and extend it out in the shape of the weapon you want using your mind" was what Magnus had told him, but it had proved difficult to muster for many weeks. By the sixth month, however, he claimed to have mastered it and could even show for it, but now was the start of his biggest test. It would be the one to change not only his life, but his very being forever; Necromancy. When he awoke the next morning, he found Magnus busy setting up three skeletons just as he said he would. The first was a tiny one with visibly fractured bones. The second was a slightly larger one with sharp teeth and canines. The final one was obviously a goat's given the visible horns. It dawned on Nillo almost immediately what Magnus had meant to do with the fox and rabbit when he saw their very bones laying there.

"Good, you're up…" Magnus spoke quietly without having once looked at Nillo.

"What is…this?" Nillo asked, though already knowing what to expect.

"Your first lesson as a proper apprentice," he replied coldly, turning to face the boy, "necromancy isn't the same as normal conjuration. Unlike summoning daedra, familiars, or even bound weapons; necromancy is focused on reanimating the dead using your magicka and even your very essence."

"My 'essence'? What in oblivion does that mea-"he fell silent as Magnus used his own nail to slightly cut open his palm before dripping his blood onto the goat's bones. He then began to chant as his palm filled with an orb of black light before extending his arm out and firing a lightning bolt of the black light at the skeleton. Its bones rattled, its joints creaked, and where its eyes once were had been replaced with blue embers, "oh…that's what you meant…"

"Yes it is, and now you may have your turn" he said with a cold smile before instructing Nillo on the correct verse. Nillo took a deep breath, and using a conjured dagger he slit his palm with a grunt of pain. Punching the tree may have made his knuckles and fists as hard as iron, but not his palms. As he dripped his blood onto the rabbit's bones, he began to focus his mind in order to heal his wound before being slapped by Magnus.

"No! Use your bloodied hand and open wound to power and infuse your will into the bones!" he growled at the boy, who was now trembling before him. With a nod, he mimicked what Magnus had done, and found the rabbit reform into a full skeleton with tiny rattles and creaks of its own. He smiled and commanded it to run a full circle around him, and was proud as it did just so.

"You seemed to have caught onto this rather quickly. Now, that fox's bones will be your own to carry as your own servant" Nillo looked to Magnus, feeling a bit disturbed but meeting his eyes with a nod.

"Good, now before you get started on your training, I made something useful for you…" he said as he pulled out a leather tunic, pants, boots, wrist and hand guards, holding them up with a smirk. "Never let good leather go to waste, boy."

At the closing of the eighth month, Nillo had already begun to change in appearance. First, there was his size. He had become slightly taller, and even more muscular after all of his training. Then there was the more obvious change in his hair. It had started to steadily grow darker as soon as he started practicing necromancy. Now, it was almost coal black and even seemed mirror his personality which had also begun to grow darker. At the eleventh month of his tutelage under Magnus, it was time to depart from Bard's Leap Falls and head for Falkreath. Nillo wouldn't admit it, but he was very excited. Falkreath was where his mother was buried, and with his grasp of necromancy he could finally have her back again! He knew if he told Magnus, though, there would be objections to his goals. Once they had reached Falkreath, they set up camp just outside of the town's borders. While there, Magnus taught Nillo various factors of civilized life that he needed to know. For one, he taught the boy about how currency worked in Skyrim with the Nordic Septims. Another aspect that he felt the boy needed to know was the Nordic general consensus that magicka was bad and taboo in all forms, and so they needed to keep their abilities secret. Especially their knowledge on necromancy, which would mean certain death for either themselves or anyone foolish enough to threaten Magnus. One particular evening, however, they sat in then inn as Magnus drank his way through four bottles of mead and Nillo enjoyed a venison stake. As the night began, Nillo overheard one man nearby talking with the bartender about a war that was going on to the west of Falkreath.

"Those damned Forsworn are raiding every caravan and merchant that enters the Reach! They don't even take survivors unless they need a hostage!"

"Aye, they are tainted lot! Those filthy savages terrorize anyone who is not one of their own, even other Bretons!" this piqued Nillo's interest as he looked to Magnus and whispered.

"Who are the Forsworn, and what is this about a war?" Magnus belched at his question before sighing.

"The Forsworn War, also known as the Fifty-Year's War of Skyrim. As the name says, it is a war between the Reachmen of Markarth and the rest of Skyrim over control for Markarth. The forsworn, also known as the Reachmen, are a savage people of Breton descent who live like Bushmen and prefer guerilla warfare over head-long battles. They have been a problem since the famed Red Eagle of the Reach. They perform necromantic rituals in the name of Azura and Hircine, the Daedric princes of dawn and the wild hunt respectively."

"Oh, so they are kinda like you?" Nillo smirked before his elder's hand slapped the back of his head.

"No, boy, I am very different from them. The Reachmen do it out of a need to fight and please their 'Old Gods'. I on the other hand perform it out of necessity, just as I have taught you to do. What's more, they believe necromancy is the key to eternal life." This caught Nillo's attention right away as it gave him an uneasy feeling.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is this; a necromancer can become 'immortal' by becoming a lich, but only the fabled dragon priests and the infamous necromancer, Mannimarco, have been able to do so. It requires that the caster turn themselves into undead, shedding any mortal coil they still have. But aside from that…life and death are separated by a well-defined line that is impossible to cross. Life is temporary, death is eternal, and that is that." Nillo's heart sank with those words.

No...No that can't be true…

Nillo immediately got up and ran out the door. He feared the worst as he tried to find it. IT was his only hope, and he needed to prove Magnus as well as his own fears wrong. He needed to find her. To find her grave, and bring her back!


	5. Prologue 5: The End of the Winters Line

Prologue 5: The End of the Winters Line

"It could not be true…no no no…!" Nillo kept as a chant, his hands muddied and covered in cold soil as he dug into the grave. He had taken care to do this when there were neither guards nor the local priest of Arkay around the old cemetery in Falkreath. Magnus's words had shaken him to his very core, having spoken of necromancy as nothing more than puppetry. Nillo refused to believe this; necromancy was his only hope of having any part of his old life back. If he could not bring his own mother back, then…then what was this all for aside from revenge?

Finally, Nillo stopped. Before him laid her coffin in the soil, and slowly he took in a long breath. Carefully, he opened the lid to find her, appearing just as she did the night she died. Her hair was a mess, but she had been in this coffin for roughly a year. The climate and priest had done well to preserve her body, and her dress was beautiful and black. Nillo could feel his hopes rising; this was it! Slowly and with great care, he took a knife from his belt and slit his palm without even a wince of pain. He carefully dripped his blood over her form, and began to chant. Before his eyes and much to his joy, her eyes opened with a faint purple glow before she began to rise onto her feet. He watched as she now stood upright, and was at first quite proud of what he had accomplished. But…this changed as he looked into her eyes and found emptiness. He held his breath before whispering to her.

"Speak"

She let out an unintelligible groan…and his heart sank…

"…say…Nillo…"

Again she groaned…and he felt a tear roll down his cheek…

"Please…say you love me…"

And again he was met with a groan…and this time he fell to his knees…

"…hug…me…"

She waltzed over clumsily…not the manner in which she had walked in life…and wrapped her arms around him. He found her embrace cold…unloving…unloving…and so finally he broke. Tears rolled down the boy's face as he shook and hugged back ever so weakly, finding her body stiff and without any familiar warmth. And as he broke…so did the spell as her form disintegrated into purple glowing ash that fall on him and around him. His heart was shattered, his hopes now gone, and any will he felt towards finding revenge or even life was now slipping away very quickly. As he looked at his dagger, he heard footsteps…and the softness of a voice he never believed to hold any comfort at all.

"…and so it was in this very way that I lost those I loved…my beloved and our son…" Nillo looked up to find Magnus who had for once removed his helmet, and saw a calm yet…surprisingly remorseful look upon his face. His dark eyes were oddly…serene…as if knowing Nillo's pain as his own all too well.

"She…she wasn't momma…she was…"

"A body…an empty vessel with no soul, no warmth, and no life…" he sighed softly as he walked to the boy, carefully dusting her ashes off of him as he continued, "this is what I meant by life and death are separated by a well-defined line…nothing may cross it…especially the will of a mortal…"

"But…but Mannimarco had-"

"Become a lich, yes. Many have tried this, and an extreme few have succeeded. All others who have tried to accomplish eternal life either gave up, failed, cursed their very souls, or went mad…and those who succeeded may have ended up the very same at most, but always undead at the very least. But…far more sorcerers of promise have lost their minds and lives to necromancy because they had dared to try and cross the line between life and death. Grief…is a powerful thing, and it drives many to commit great and horrible acts of carnage and terror. These are the reasons why necromancy is considered a dark art, and why many have forbidden it…" Nillo thought about those words, rolling them around in his head before looking up at Magnus.

"What happened to your family…?" the boy inquired as they both stood there for minutes on end. Finally, Magnus sighed and shook his head.

"That…" his voice trailed off, and al was silent again as Nillo cast his gaze down. He could tell it was a subject that did not sit well with his master, and he had learned quickly while training under him that pushing such a subject would be met with anger. Anger from Magnus could be dangerous, for angering a werewolf was never wise nor advised by any sane man. Nillo could only look around him at the ashes of his mother, their faint glow disappearing as more tears rolled down his dirt covered cheeks.

"We must clean this scene up, and leave before the town guards find us-"

"What point is there in that…? What point is there in anything anymore…?" Nillo asked in an almost monotone voice, soft yet failing to hide his despair.

"What do you mean what point is there? If you are caught like this, if WE are caught like this, it will result in only bloodshed and more violence" Magnus retorted, almost growling with annoyance.

"I only became a damned necromancer to bring her back, and look where that got me! She doesn't even have a body anymore!" Nillo finally began to break down, his cries of anguish and despair filling the stilled air of the cemetery. Magnus watched the boy as he clutched his face in his hands, bawling over this loss of faith and hope. Never before had he seen the boy cry; not when his mother died, not when his village was burned, and not when he made the blood pact. Now, however, he sat on the ground, crying his eyes out. Magnus wanted to slap him at first, to remind him of the threat of being detected by the guards…but his mind changed as he silently kneeled down and carefully hugged Nillo close against his chest. Nillo trembled in a mix of both sadness and shock, and slowly began to calm down. Slowly, Nillo composed himself and finally, with a deep sigh and a sniffle, pulled away to look at his mother's faintly glowing ashes.

"We should…clean her up at least…we should give her rest again…" Nillo spoke between sniffles.

"Aye…we should" Magnus agreed as they both carefully gathered most of the ashes up into the coffin, letting small pinches be blown into the wind to carry her spirit beyond Skyrim and its mountains. As they finished and laid her coffin to rest, burying it with care, Magnus whispered a prayer to Shor, Akatosh, and Arkay as he carefully poured a small bottle of mead onto her grave. Nillo looked to Magnus, and Magnus to him, presenting him with a necklace with a vial attached to it.

"What is this…?" Nillo inquired curiously and a bit skeptically.

"It is a necklace that holds a pinch of her ashes. This way…she will always be with you wherever you go, and you will never forget her no matter where you may end up" Magnus spoke softly as Nillo stared at it, more tears rolling down his cheeks before he put it on. Just as he did, however, a guard's torch could be seen in the fog. Magnus grabbed the boy, and left Falkreath quickly as the guards could only guess why the soil of Alva's grave was disheveled.

Another year had passed since Magnus had taken Nillo under his wing, and the world seemed to have recovered. They now found themselves in Winterhold, the small decrepit village of the mage's college. What had brought them here was unknown to Nillo, but he had an uneasy guess. For the past month, Magnus had been having nightmares, visions to be exact. He would not say what he saw, only that they meant they may soon part ways. When he had first said this to Nillo, the boy merely scoffed and said "a nightmare is just a dream! It doesn't mean the end of the world!" but he was met with a jab to the face, and quickly reminded that the Daedric Prince Vaermina could weave nightmares and dreams for those who served or interested her the most. Her visions, much like any Daedric "blessing", were not to be taken for granted. Nillo no longer scoffed at this, and being at the college made him nervous. Magnus had always said that the college held a zero tolerance policy towards necromancy and any other dark arts. To be her meant that something was wrong…VERY wrong...

"So that's just it, isn't it? You're going to abandon me to the college?" Nillo stared at his food vacantly as they sat in the inn. He hadn't touched it, dreading what Magnus would say to him.

"I am afraid it has come to this. You're a liability now, and I cannot guarantee your safety anymore" Magnus was calm, his voice dark and seemingly brooding, but Nillo could tell that Magnus didn't care. His voice, his body language, and his eyes showed that he had other things on his mind, more important things than Nillo.

"So…what about my training? Was it for nothing?" Nillo inquired, feeling rather insulted by Magnus's words.

"No, it wasn't because you have grown stronger these past two winters. Your body is no longer frail, your mind is sharper than a dragon's, and your abilities as a spell sword are grand. Your…" he quickly clears his throat and whispers "'other abilities' are at the highest potential that I can guide you to. However, the college can train you better in the skills of a mage, and there are many opportunities and places here to train your body. You no longer need me, and you sure as hell no longer need to be babied."

Nillo gave a sideways smile at those words. "Babied" is how he described his training regime. It almost made Nillo sneer and laugh at the irony of it all, given that Magnus hadn't really so much as babied him as he had thrown him to the wolves time and again. Half the time, that fraise was quite literal to the point! Now, however, he dared to use that term when comparing his training to the college's own? It was almost to a blasphemous level in its comparison! In the end, however, Nillo knew he would still prefer training with his master than with some ancient book worms.

"So then you're just going to leave. Just like that?"

"Yes, and never look back"

"Good, then you won't be able to kick my ass when I enter the college and forget everything you taught me about embalming…"

Nillo spent that night not asleep, but instead beside the inn, gazing up at the stars. It was the one night without snow or blizzard, and he planned to enjoy the moons and the frozen lights at their best. This may be one of few chances he will have now given his new living arrangements. Earlier, Magnus had introduced Nillo to the head master of the college, Archmagus Kaelrik. It had gone well, though Nillo had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing at each of the strict rules against using magicka. It annoyed the young boy, for it disallowed most conjuration spells and outright abolished necromancy. What use was it to learn these spells if he was going to end up in a snooty school that forbade them? It was an outrage, but Nillo knew better than to argue. To argue was to bring shame to Magnus who was a longtime friend of the High Elven Archmagus. To bring shame to Magnus was to get a gauntlet to the head and a steel boot to the ass. The Archmagus was, at the least, very kind hearted towards Nillo. Although they did not see eye to eye, Nillo could sense warmth from the elder that seemed to radiate about him.

As his sight grazed the atmosphere and the surfaces of the moons, he felt an ease fall upon him. It was refreshing in sense, a first since he lived in Rorikstead. Kaelrik had mentioned that, upon hearing of Nillo's home village, Rorikstead had been restored fully to an even better state than before. It was even under the protection of the Blades, which struck Magnus as both odd and suspicious. Nillo didn't understand what was so bad about it; after all it was his home village that had been restored! Alas, Magnus made it clear that they were to avoid it, and instead retire to Winterhold. Soon after arriving, however, Nillo realized a VERY important thing about the town; it was a frozen wasteland that doubled as the perfect Oblivion on Tamriel. He instantly despised it, cursing with every shiver at the blistering cold. Despite his Nordic heritage, he had no tolerance for the freezer that was Northern Skyrim and he made it perfectly clear to Magnus every chance he got. In return, Magnus took every opportunity to slap some warmth into Nillo as he also slapped the whining out of him in one swift movement. Suddenly, Nillo ducked behind a barrel as he heard footsteps atop crunching snow. He watched silently, waiting as he saw Magnus walk on by towards the road out of town to the west, followed by a worried Kaelrik.

"Are you certain…? HE is near?" Kaelrik inquired with shock and uncertainty in his voice.

"Aye…the bastard is near Saarthal, possibly at the Tower of Mzark. If he is, then I must kill him for my lord…and for Nillo…" his voice held a tone of agitation, an anger and annoyance.

"Are you absolutely certain, and even if you are certain, are you prepared?! This monstrosity could very well end you!"

"…I have lived through death and beyond, I have lost everything and gained nothing, and yet…I care not for what will happen, for I know I will gain another trophy" though Nillo could not see his face, he could feel the dark aura of his crooked grin that always seemed to make the air colder. It was unnerving, and when combined with his almost sadistically power-hungry tone…it made Nillo shake with fear. Who was he seeking out that posed such a threat? Who was it that Kaelrik and even Magnus himself feared?

"Please…please return…do not give the boy another reason to morn…" Kaelrik spoke with a trembling tone, but Magnus did not return any words as he departed on foot, wishing to catch the mysterious being off guard. Nillo waited only long enough for Kaelrik to leave as well before quickly moving done the road quietly, staying a good 15 meters behind Magnus at the least and using both snow flurries and the terrain itself to remain hidden. He even took care to remain downwind from his wolfish sense of smell. It took roughly three hours on foot before they each arrived first at Saarthal, and then at the great Dwemer ruins of Raldbthar and Alftand. They were a sight to behold; massive cave systems carved into the canyon sides with massively tall towers poking out here and there across it. Nillo found himself short of breath from the trek, but this left him winded. They were so high up that the clouds themselves seemed to mover through the trenched mountains, oozing in and out of the caves in an eerie and almost perverse fashion.

Nillo quickly hid within in a long abandoned tent, watching as Magnus walked along an old decrepit bridge before stopping half way. It was odd, as just a mere 5 meters ahead was a cloud which seemed to give no reason to stop; but, as it cleared, it revealed a true horror to Nillo's eyes. There stood the same monster as that night, there stood the nightmare that had haunted Nillo for two years, and there…stood the man who had slain his mother, wiped out Rorikstead, and sent him on this path. He had not changed in the least bit since that night, except his eyes actually glowed a brutal and bloody red. If he had not been a monster before, he certainly was one now! Magnus growled viciously into the cold night air as the man merely sneered and hollered a deranged laugh.

"Ohhhhhhh, my dear sweet werewolf Magnus! It has been far too long since we last met! What has it been?" he laughed continuously before lowering into a mad snicker.

"Twelve years, Xaeveous, and I haven't forgotten about Marna!" Magnus snarled in return at the demonic man.

"Oh ho ho! I remember 'ittle Marna. Such a sweet lass…even when I held her delicious heart in my PALM!" he hooted and hollered with glee, as if proud by his obviously morbid actions. Magnus snarled in rage and roared as he drew his blades Sorrow and Despair before charging across the bridge at Xaeveous. The man quickly stopped his laughing long enough to follow suit, drawing a long Daedric great sword and striking down on his opponent. This was met with crossed blades as Magnus easily blocked the massive blade, and quickly lunged forward to KNOCK Xaeveous backwards. Nillo gasped as Xaeveous grabbed Magnus's armor and dragged him along for the fall as both men tumbled down onto a lower bridge. Nillo quickly made his way down to the first bridge, and watched as Xaeveous held Magnus down with his foot on the old wolf's chest, ready to plunge his blade down. Before he could, a fire bolt was fired right at his head, gaining a screech of pained shock from the demonic man.

"WHO IN OBLIVIO DARES TO STRIKE MY FA-"was all Xaeveous could screech before Magnus swung his own Daedric great sword, Reaver, through Xaeveous's leg. The movement, while not complete in its action, did manage to slice through most of the monster's flesh and bone. This elicited a great holler of pain and agony as Magnus knocked him off, pulling his blade free before smirking at Nillo and charging at his enemy once more. Before Xaeveous could move, Magnus held him down with his foot and began to STOMP his rib cage in, causing him to cough and gag up black blood and cry out in agony. Nillo made his way down standing mere meters away as Magnus held his blade high, and cursed his advisory.

"To Oblivion's heart, I rid you of your DAMNED LIFE!" he howled in triumph as he stabbed down into Xaeveous's chest, but to both his and Nillo's surprise, Xaeveous merely sneered and then grinned as his body ERUPTED into flames as he exploded with them. All Nillo felt was falling as the bridge was demolished. Though he was far enough away not to be seared, he was still far out enough to not have anything to grasp before plummeting. His last memories were of seeing both men fade away within the snow clouds bellow, and then a loud hard THWACK as his body hit the snowy surface bellow.

He wasn't sure where he was, or even if he was alive. All he saw was blackness, though he knew his eyes were closed. All he felt was pain and agony throughout his being. He could hear the faint chanting of priests and sense the auras of magicka, but what truly held his attention was an odd monolith that stood alone before him in the darkness. It seemed to whisper into his ears, both at once. Its voice was dark, its intent a mystery, and its truths hidden. Even so, Nillo whispered, for he knew what it was; the will of a Daedric Prince.

He Lives…He lives…

Your destiny is not complete, champion…

He doesn't walk now…He breaths no more...and still he exists by Dagon's will…

Do not fear…do not despair…this was destiny's doing…

Do not fear…do not despair…for it will all make sense soon…

Rest, champion…..and AWAKEN

Nillo's eyes shot wide open as he gasped deeply, the light around him blinding as he began to shake and panic. He felt hands grasp him, trying to hold him down as healers tried to fix his wounds. He knew they were healers, but he still panicked and struggled, crying out in agony and fear from the shock of near death. He looked over to the blurry figure of Kaelrik as tears rolled down his cheeks. He could only hear muffled noises as his hearing slowly came back, but he could tell that the elder was trying to comfort him. It did little as Nillo looked at himself, his vision clearing enough for him to see his armor in tatters and a few ribs sticking out of his chest. It was hard to breathe as they slowly reset his bones, removing them from his lungs and heart as the boy cried in agony. It took a few minutes more, but Nillo didn't last that long as the pain caused him to pass out again. He awoke hours later, the sun beginning to set outside on an oddly clear evening. He struggled to sit up, but found the pain gone. It scared him to try and move at first, the pain still fresh in his memory as he finally sat up. Looking around himself, he realized he was inside one of the small dormitories given to a mage student at the college.

"'Twas a blessing we had found you as soon as we did. Even a moment later, and…well, you would not be sitting here" came the soft voice of Kaelrik, who smiled softly as he sat beside Nillo's bed.

"How did you find me…?" Nillo whispered in a weak tone, the only way he could speak with his fatigue.

"When we noticed you had disappeared, we transmuted part of your codex in order to track you down…" he said as he pointed to the familiar black leather book on Nillo's bed side table before continuing, "it was by pure luck we had reached you in time. You were quite literally at death's door when we began to heal you. I dare say it was fortunate enough that we were able to do so even in that wilderness…" his voice trailed off, as if saddened by a thought.

"…where is Magnus's body…?"

"Ah…alas, neither his nor Xaeveous's were found…thus leaving us to wonder if they even live still…" he sighed softly, causing Nillo to whimper with regret.

"I…I'm sorry for your friend…he was almost like a father to me…almost…" Nillo tried to his best effort in his weakened state to cheer the elder up. Though he sat there emotionless, he soon looked up at the boy with a warm smile.

"He was not much of a father figure, I will admit to that much. However, he did his best with you, and it shows" he chuckled softly as Nillo began to smile slightly, but then the boy frowned as he remembered the prince's words.

"He isn't dead…Xaeveous is still alive somehow, though I…I don't think he has a body…"

"Tis possible, for the Daedric champions may not truly die…" there was that word again; Champion. What did that even mean for Nillo?

"I have heard that term before. What does it mean…champion?" the elder sat there in silence before sighing.

"I believe you are ready to know the truth now, Nillo. You see every millennium the Daedric Princes select a new vessel for the champions who serve them. These champions are special amongst their array of other champions, as these are their eternal champions. They serve to compete in "the Grand Game", to either hunt one another or join forces. There may be only one force remaining, whether it is joined or singular in power. Magnus is one of these champions, as was Xaeveous. Magnus and I along with our people wish to stop the forces of the maleficent Champions from causing harm to Tamriel's masses. As for you, my boy…you are one of the Champions…" These words overwhelmed Nillo as he lay back with a thud against the bedding. It was almost too much to take in, but it all made sense; his nightmares and dreams, why Xaeveous hunted him down two years ago, and why Magnus had taken such an interest in him.

"So then…who do I champion…?"

"That is the big question indeed. Who do YOU believe you champion, my boy?" he smiled softly and reassuringly.

"…Vaermina…?"

"I am afraid not, my boy, though she may have taken your side. No, Vaermina's champion was eliminated twelve years ago…a wonderfully brilliant young woman named-"

"Marna…Magnus mentioned her as if she was of importance…"

"Yes, she was of great importance. You see, she was on our side against the other forces and champions. She was unique, as being Vaermina's champion allowed her to cypher the dreams of others, allowing her to read visions and nightmares alike. She could also put others to sleep, and even kill them in their dreams, though many times we had to guard her body as she slept. Sadly…she had died at the hands of Xaeveous…"

"Why was she so important to Magnus…?" Nillo watched as the elder stared him down in silence before speaking.

"…she was his adopted daughter…" Nillo casted his gaze down, feeling guilty for bringing such a sore subject up.

"Now now, you didn't have a way of knowing. Tis no reason to despair, my child" his eyes met Kaelrik's smile, and he too smiled slightly.

"Then…who is my Lord…?"

"There is one way to tell. Come!" with his aid and with codex in hand, Nillo stood and followed the sage down the hall and into the stairwell where a cellar door laid. With great help from both him and a few fellow mages, they descended into a cold icy cavern bellow the college.

"This is the midden, a cavernous dungeon bellow the college. It is off limits to all members of the college save for certain staff members and I. It was here nearly 100 years ago that a group of students attempted to use necromancy and Daedric influence to overthrow the college…" Nillo stared in wonder as they walked through a tunnel, trying to take care not to slip on the icy floors. They soon came to an odd alter, one adorned with odd symbols that Nillo recognized as to be Daedric in nature. This alter would have seemed dark, if not for the fact that it seemed to give off light instead.

"And this…this is the alter of Champions. Through this, we may find your Lord, and discern how to train you properly." Nillo stared at it in wonder, but then turned to the mages and the elder with a suspicious glare.

"Before I do anything, just who the hell are all of you? You claim to want to prevent the harmfulness of the other Champions, but how do I know you aren't harmful yourselves?!" he glared at them as they looked to the elder. With a deep sigh, he kneels before the boy and speaks gently.

"We are the Sons of Auriel, an ancient organization founded during the First Era. Our mission during the Grand Game is to seek out the Champions who would stand against Molag Bal, Mahrunes Dagon, and all others who would see Tamriel burn. When we are not fighting in the Grand Game, we aid the Vigilants of Stendar and the Dawnguard in hunting down summoned Daedra and clans of Vampires."

"So then…what is my role exactly…?" Nillo inquired.

"Your role, without Magnus to aid us any longer, is to be our leading Champion, our spear head. From here on, you will serve as the guiding knight against the dark forces of the Grand Game. Do you accept, and pledge yourself to our cause…?" They all watched Nillo expectantly as the boy shut his eyes and stood silent for an entire minute.

"…very well. I accept!" Nillo spoke with confidence, smiling with pride. Never before had he felt so empowered, that he would be a hero of destiny just like the hero's in the stories his mother always told him at night. This was his chance to be a hero, but what's more; it was his chance to make the world right again!

"Then please, step onto the alter so that we may find the Lord you champion" the elder spoke with a smile as Nillo stepped up onto the Alter, and held his breath. He was nervous, and he feared what would happen next, but to his surprise…nothing happened. At least, at first nothing happened. All was silent, and then a white aura swirled around the boy, causing his eyes to glow white as he watched Daedric letters float above him and spell out a name. It was an odd name, one he had never heard of before nor recognized. The Sons of Auriel, however, did as they gasped in shock. Kaelrik's jaw dropped in disbelief as he stared.

"No…this is impossible! HE has never had a champion to fight for his claim!"

"Father Kaelrik," spoke a priest beside him, "it is not impossible. He IS a Daedric Prince, and as such may have a champion; this boy. Let it be recorded in the scrolls, my brothers, that today we have found the Champion of Jyggalag!"

Author's note: and so we close the final chapter of the Prologue arch with a plot twist. I would like to thank everyone who took the time to read this story, and to let you know that I will begin writing the first chapter of book 1 immediately! Please let me know what you think of my series so far and what I can do to improve my writing!


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